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F JESUITS 



How Multicultural Are We? 

Six Stories by 

Claudio M. Burgaleta, Gregory C. Chisholm, 
Eduardo C. Fernandez, Gerdenio M. Manuel, 
J-Glenn Murray, and Hung T. Pham, 
all of the Society of Jesus 



compiled and edited by 

William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, SJ. 



BX3701 S88 ONL PER 

Studies in the spirituality of Jesuits [St Loui 

Issue: v.33:no.5(2001:Nov ) 

Arrival Date: 12/28/2001 

Boston College Libraries 




33/5 • NOVEMBER 2001 



THE SEMINAR ON JESUIT SPIRITUALITY 

The Seminar is composed of a number of Jesuits appointed from their provinces in 
the United States. 

It concerns itself with topics pertaining to the spiritual doctrine and prac- 
tice of Jesuits, especially United States Jesuits, and communicates the results to the 
members of the provinces through its publication, STUDIES IN THE SPIRITUALITY OF 
JESUITS. This is done in the spirit of Vatican II's recommendation that religious 
institutes recapture the original inspiration of their founders and adapt it to the 
circumstances of modern times. The Seminar welcomes reactions or comments in 
regard to the material that it publishes. 

The Seminar focuses its direct attention on the life and work of the Jesuits 
of the United States. The issues treated may be common also to Jesuits of other 
regions, to other priests, religious, and laity, to both men and women. Hence, the 
journal, while meant especially for American Jesuits, is not exclusively for them. 
Others who may find it helpful are cordially welcome to make use of it. 



CURRENT MEMBERS OF THE SEMINAR 

William A. Barry, S.J., directs the tertianship program and is a writer at Cam- 
pion Renewal Center, Weston, MA (1999). 

Robert L. Bireley, S.J., teaches history at Loyola University, Chicago, IL (2001) 

James F. Keenan, S.J., teaches moral theology at Weston Jesuit School of Theol- 
ogy, Cambridge, MA (2000). 

Lawrance J. Madden, S.J., directs the Georgetown Center for Liturgy, Spiritual- 
ity, and the Arts, Washington, DC (2001) 

Douglas W Marcouiller, S.J., teaches economics at Boston College, Chestnut 
Hill, MA (2000). 

G. Ronald Murphy, S.J., teaches German language and literature at Georgetown 
University, Washington, DC (2001) 

Thomas R O'Malley, S.J., is associate dean of arts and sciences and teaches in 
the honors program at Boston College, Chestnut Hill, MA (2000). 

John W Padberg, S.J., is chairman of the Seminar, editor of STUDIES, and direc- 
tor and editor at the Institute of Jesuit Sources (1986). 

William R. Rehg, S.J., teaches philosophy at St. Louis University, St. Louis, 
MO (2000). 

The opinions expressed in STUDIES are those of the individual authors thereof. 
Parentheses designate year of entry as a Seminar member. 

Copyright © 2001 and published by the Seminar on Jesuit Spirituality 
3601 Lindell Blvd., St. Louis, MO 63108 
(Tel. 314-977-7257; Fax 314-977-7263) 



How Multicultural Are We? 

Six Stories by 

Claudio M. Burgaleta, Gregory C. Chisholm, 

Eduardo C. Fernandez, Gerdenio M. Manuel, 

J-Glenn Murray, and Hung T. Pham, 

all of the Society of Jesus 



compiled and edited by 

William A. Barry, S.J. 

and 

James F. Keenan, S.J. 



STUDIES IN THE SPIRITUALITY OF JESUITS 

33/5 • NOVEMBER 2001 



Of all things . . . 



It's hard to think of Jesus as a weasel. 

Over the course of the Christian centuries, a greater variety of symbolic 
images than most of us could ever imagine have been employed to represent the 
person of Jesus Christ. Each of the images is a "metaphor" for some aspect of the 
Lord. We are familiar with some of them, such as the pelican or the eagle. We might 
regard the sheep, the deer, and the lark as somewhat apt symbols of one or other 
aspects of Christ; but could you, for example, have imagined that the wasp, the sea 
urchin, the crocodile, or the spider would also be among them, not to mention such 
imaginary or fabulous beasts as the hippogriff, the dragon, the ouroboros (a snake 
curled in a circle and holding the end of its tail in its mouth), and the amphisbaena (a 
reptile with two heads, one in the usual place and one at its tail)? And even the 
lowly weasel was employed as a Christ symbol because, according to legend, it 
devotedly cared for its offspring and resuscitated them if they happened to die. All of 
these animals were meant to be positive symbols of Christ and his work; not a one 
was considered negative, much less blasphemous. 

In 1940 Le Bestiaire du Christ appeared in Brussels. An enormously erudite 
and equally interesting and accessible book stretching to a thousand pages and con- 
taining more than a thousand woodcuts, it was the lifetime work of Louis Charbon- 
neau-Lassay, a world-class French archaeologist-historian of medieval art and symbol- 
ism, and a deeply committed Catholic as well. An English abridgment and translation 
of almost five hundred pages, The Bestiary of Christ, by D. M. Dooling, appeared ten 
years ago (New York: Penguin/Parabola, 1991). The book is both a testimony to 
how impoverished our current imaginations can be, and a stimulus to them to pres- 
ent the inexhaustible riches of Christ more vividly to ourselves and others. The 
original limited edition barely survived in a few copies after a World War II bombing 
raid. 

Compare that to the enormous circulation available to almost anything on 
the World Wide Web today. It is worth going to the Web sometime to see the main 
sites devoted to Jesuitica and the links from one to another around the world. While 
there you might look at the IJS site, <www.jeusitsources.com>. All the Institute's 
publications are listed there for your delight and temptation. 

One of the most productive of such Jesuit publishers around the world was 
Fr. Xavier Diaz del Rio, S.J., head of the Gujaret Sahitya Prakash, The Light of 
Gujaret press in India. Fr. Diaz del Rio, who died in September ot this year, was a 
man to whom the Society of Jesus owes a great deal. lie had an extraordinary caj 
ity for work; and under his direction GSP published hundreds of books on a great 
variety of subjects, among them Jesuit spirituality and Jesuit history. Many years ago 
Fr. George Ganss, the founder of the Institute of Jesuit Sources, entered into a 
cooperative arrangement with Fr. Diaz del Rio whereby GSP could publish for Asian 
and African distribution any of the IJS books. Because printing costs are much low< i 
in India than in the United States, Fr. Diaz del Rio could provide Jesuits and other 

in 



readers in developing countries with books at an affordable price. A good number of 
IJS books thus became more easily available to readers with severely limited financial 
resources. In turn, the IJS put out several works that GSP had originally published. 

India has produced many things of importance for the Church, but surely 
one of the strangest was the Pope's elephant. Yes, you read the phrase correctly. In 
1514 the King of Portugal, wishing to impress Pope Leo X, brought an elephant 
from India and had it marched across southern Europe, through the Alpine passes, 
and down to Rome. In a city that at the time housed such artists as Michelangelo, 
Raphael, and Leonardo da Vinci, and a papal court renowned for its pleasure-loving 
excesses, Hanno, the newly named white elephant, became a star. He took part in 
processions and festivals, had his portrait painted and sculpted, and became a pet of 
the Pope. Four years ago the historian Silvio Bedini published The Pope's Elephant 
(New York: Penguin, 1997), a work both serious in scholarship and as one reviewer 
remarked, "utterly charming and completely loopy." Or as another said, it "combines 
off-beat charm with historical rigor to such pleasing effect that it would even be 
suitable bedtime reading for a pontiff wanting to unwind." Indeed it would. 

More recently, and more seriously, I have been reading Karl Rahner and 
Ignatian Spirituality (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001) by Philip Endean, 
S.J., a member of the British Province and of the faculty of Heythrop College in 
London. A part of the Oxford Theological Monographs series, this book compli- 
ments Rahner by offering a serious, wide-ranging, in-depth presentation and critique 
of what he wrote on this subject, ranging from his earliest extant comments from the 
1930s to his final writings on the subject, left unfinished on his desk when he died in 
1984. The book "explores the relationship between Karl Rahner's theology and the 
Ignatian spiritual tradition," and it does so with a rigor that is both daunting and 
refreshing. Rahner believed that the most significant influence on his work was the 
Spiritual Exercises. As Endean says, "If the Spiritual Exercises were to be read with the 
seriousness they deserved, they implied a thoroughgoing renewal of the whole theo- 
logical enterprise, fundamental and practical as well as dogmatic. To that renewal 
Rahner was to devote his whole professional life." Endean speaks very fairly of the 
weaknesses and the problems in Rahner's conception of Ignatian spirituality and of 
his accomplishments and influence thereon. This is not a book for the casual reader; 
it demands concentration, reflection, and theological background. But it is both a 
tribute to Rahner and to his influence on the understanding and practice of the 
Exercises; and, in its own right, it is an example of what critical, sympathetic, and 
exacting scholarship is all about. 

Finally, if ever an issue of STUDIES might stimulate correspondence, the 
present one, "How Multi-Cultural Are We?" should do so. Each of its six stories is 
enlightening and thought-provoking. On any one of them or on all of them, many of 
us might well have something to say. So I do encourage your letters to the editor. 
Keep them coming; we would like to publish them. 

John W. Padberg, SJ. 
Editor 



IV 



CONTENTS 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories ... 3 

Claudio M. Burgaleta, S.J.: "Burgaleta? That Doesn't Sound 

Irish to Me. " 6 

Gregory C. Chisholm, S.J.: On Being Black and Jesuit 11 

Eduardo C. Fernandez, S.J.: Four Reasons Why I, 
a Mexican-American, Joined the Society of Jesus 

and Remain a Member 16 

Gerdenio M. Manuel, S.J.: Little Brown Brother 23 

J-Glenn Murray, S.J.: Not Unlike Augustine of Hippo 28 

Hung T. Pham, S.J.: An Inner Journey 36 



v 



Here's a new book! 
for 

historians 

linguists 

theologians 

philosophers 

anthropologists 

archivists 

and lots of others! 



Thomas M. McCoog, S.J. 

A GUIDE TO JESUIT ARCHIVES 



For some ninety Jesuit provinces and independent 
regions throughout the world, this book presents 
data on their archival holdings: where they are 
(address, telephone, FAX, e-mail), historical back- 
ground, conditions of use, acquisitions policies, 
plus a description of the nature and extent of the 
archival material which each collection has. 



How did all this happen? 

In early 1998, a letter went from the 
Jesuit Historical Institute in Rome to the 
heads of each of the worldwide Jesuit 
provinces, as well as a pair of question- 
naires intended for the archivist within a 
given province's area. The investigation 
was multilingual: questionnaires (and 
the subsequent replies to them) were in 
English, French, Italian, German, and 
Spanish. The present book, edited by 
Thomas McCoog, S.J., a member of the 
Institute in Rome and also archivist of 
the British Province of the Jesuit order, 
gives the results of those question- 
naires, both in the original language of 
reply and in English. 



So what? 

Quite simply: this book opens up and 
enhances research opportunities 
around the world in valuable archives 
that in many cases were little known 
until now. 



How to get the book? 

Order from: 

The Institute of Jesuit Sources 

3601 Lindell Boulevard 

Saint Louis, MO, 63108. 

TEL 314-977-7257 

FAX 314-977-7263 

e-mail ijs@slu.edu 

website www.jesuitsources.com 

ISBN 1-880810-42-5 

Paper 

$19.95, plus postage and handling 

Orders accepted on open account. 



How Multicultural Are We? 

Six Stories 



It is no secret that the ethnic composition of the Society of Jesus in the 
United States is changing. The names alone of our entering novices tell 
us that something different is taking place. And the pictures of both the 
new novices and of those being ordained published in Company magazine 
make the point even more clearly. Not only are these novices older on 
average than was true forty years ago, but they also come from ethnic 
backgrounds very little represented in our ranks in those days. These new 
vocations given to us, we believe, by God pose some interesting issues and 
challenges not only for their formation (and formatores), but also for all of us 
who want to welcome these new men into our "least Society." This issue of 
STUDIES is published to help all of us deal creatively and compassionately 
with these issues and challenges. 

Of course, it may seem that the Society in the United States was, 
until fairly recent times, almost exclusively made up of men whose national 
origin was northern European. The authors of the essays in this issue belie 
this assumption, since five of the six have been Jesuits for twenty or even 
thirty years. The impression of older Jesuits that changes in our ethnic 



Rev. William A. Barry, S.J., a former provincial of the New England 
Jesuit Province, is codirector of the tertiansbip program in that province, as 
as retreat director and writer. His most recent hook is With an Everlasting 
Love: Developing a Relationship of Intimacy with God, published by Paulist 
Press. Fr. Barry's address is Campion Renewal Center, 314 Concord Road, 
Weston, MA 02493. Collaborating with him on this issue of STUDIES is Jan; 
Keenan, S.J., with a doctorate in Sacred Theology from the Gregorian 
University. He is associate professor of moral theology at Weston Jesuit School of 
Theology. Virtues for Ordinary Christians (Shced and Ward) is among his 
recent publications. He is presently working on a collection of essays toitat: 
entitled "Church Leadership Ethics. " His address is Weston Jesuit School of 
Theology, 3 Phillips Place, Cambridge, MA 02138. 



2 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

composition are a recent phenomenon is fed, in part, by the way certain 
structures in the Society in the United States supported the notion that we 
have always been almost exclusively Americans of northern-European 
background. For this reason STUDIES wanted to engage, not the experience 
of the many diverse newcomers, but rather the learned and lived experience 
of our brothers whose distinctive voices have not always been recognized as 
such. 

Entering the Society is a daunting experience no matter what one's 
background. After all, the entering novice is not just changing jobs or 
moving into an unknown school environment, intimidating enough as these 
experiences would be in their own right; he is expected and is expecting to 
take on a new identity as a member of a religious order with an almost five- 
hundred-year history. Taking on a new identity is not a matter of changing 
one's clothes or one's place of work; it requires an interior change of a 
profound order. The Society from its very beginnings realized this and has 
required a long and often arduous period of formation before allowing a 
man to pronounce his final vows and be called a fully incorporated member. 
Thus, any entering novice faces formidable challenges. How will he become 
a fully accepted member of this religious order while yet maintaining his 
own individuality? The challenges are compounded when the entering 
novice belongs to an ethnic and cultural group different from that of the 
province he is entering. Not only does the entering novice face these chal- 
lenges, however, but all of us do so as well, because we are all involved in 
becoming the new Society of Jesus in the United States, as God is calling us 
to do. 

This kind of challenge has always been present in the Society. 
However, the challenge was, for the most part, one-sided, experienced only 
by those who came from an ethnic and cultural group different from the 
predominant one in a province. Those of us who belonged to the dominant 
ethnic group hardly noticed the difficulties faced by the few novices not 
from that group. But ask, for example, an older Franco-American or Italian- 
American who entered the predominantly Irish- American provinces of the 
East Coast what it was like to enter the novitiate forty years or more ago, 
and you might hear a rich story, not unlike the ones that follow. Not only 
were these men expected to take on a Jesuit identity, but unconsciously they 
were also asked to take on the ethos and culture of the predominant group 
if they wished to survive and have friends. 

We have asked the authors whose essays follow to reflect on their 
spiritual journey as they took on a Jesuit identity, in order to help all of us 
become more aware and alert to the challenges we face as a group of com- 
panions of Jesus who are now, finally, becoming culturally more diverse, 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories 



following the pattern set by the wider culture of the United States. In a 
recent issue of America, Judith Bruder quotes from a homily by an African- 
American Jesuit, James L. Pierce, who made the point that "tolerance and 
acceptance are good things, but limited. Until," he said, "one person is 
willing to accept the other's experience not just as O.K., but as normative, 
nothing much can happen." 1 These essays invite us to take the experiences of 
our brothers from different ethnic and cultural backgrounds as normative for 
their identity as Roman Catholics who now seek to take on a Jesuit identity. 

We want to emphasize that the men who wrote these essays have 
generously responded to an invitation from the Seminar on Jesuit Spiritual- 
ity. The idea for this issue arose in a discussion among the members of the 
Seminar. The men who were asked were surprised and even apprehensive 
when they were invited to reflect on their earlier experience as Jesuits in the 
American context of those days. They have done so with great generosity. 

Why these six essays? Clearly we were not aiming at proportionate 
representation, or even at any specific representation. We did ask for essays 
from men of another ethnic background; but when these men were not able 
to respond, we decided to limit this issue of STUDIES to these six essays. Our 
aim, as stated, was not for all-encompassing representation, but for essays 
from men seasoned in the Society who could reflect on their experience of 
taking on a Jesuit identity in the context of being from an ethnic back- 
ground different from the dominant one at that time. Our hope and that of 
the writers is that their reflections will help all of us become the Society 
God is inviting us to become as we move into this new century. 



1 America, October 15, 2001, 28. 



"Burgaleta? That Doesn't Sound Irish to Me." 

by Claudio M. Burgaleta, SJ. 

J. entered the New York novitiate in 1980 at Syracuse, N.Y., without really 
knowing the North American Society of Jesus very well. I had not attended 
a Jesuit high school or college or belonged to a Jesuit parish. This is not to 
say that I was entirely unacquainted with the Ignatian charism. My family 
revered the Society for its distinguished reputation in education. But even 
more, we saw it as embodied in the quasi-mythical Spanish Jesuit of the 
Antilles Province, Amando Llorente, the spiritual director of a Marian 
sodality for professional men established in Cuba in the 1930's, the Agrupa- 
cion Catolica Universitaria. I would characterize my spirituality before 
entering as Ignatian, Marian, devotional, and defined by the Agrupacion's 
anti-Communist and pro-papal sympathies. 

Perhaps it should not come as a surprise that with a background 
such as mine, I was deferred from entering the Society in 1978, and was 
encouraged to "temper" my style so that I could better fit into the New 
York Province. From 1978 to 1980 I broadened my horizons by attending 
Columbia University in New York City. It was there that I was first 
exposed to what today is sometimes called "advocacy theologies." These 
influences offered a very different take on the Catholicism familiar to me 
since childhood, and served as an introduction to the liberal Catholicism 
that has characterized most of my life in the Society. When I entered the 
novitiate, it was with the intuition that I was being called to serve the 
growing Latino community in the United States as a Jesuit priest, even 
though during the next twenty years I would have to discern how that 
invitation to service in imitation of Jesus and Ignatius would evolve. 

In a way I had not previously experienced, my years in the novitiate 
brought to the fore the challenge of being a Hispanic in the U.S. Catholic 
Church. I encountered some culturally specific issues as a Cuban-American, 
in addition to those other issues faced by all novices; I am grateful that I 
could begin to grapple with them aided by Tom Feely, who had spent a 
number of years working in Puerto Rico and was the socius to the novice 
director at that time. 

Let me give some examples of these. Community devotional life in 
the novitiate principally centered around the liturgy of the hours and the 
Eucharist. This was very different from the communal devotional life 



Claudio M. Burgaleta, S.J., writes from Fordham University, where he is 
professor of theology. His address is Spellman Hall Residence; Bronx, NY 10458-5148. 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories 






suffusing the popular Catholicism that I had been accustomed to at home. 
The Cuban Catholicism I grew up with emphasized sacramentals as a 
mediation of the sacred and an expression and support of a family-centered 
faith. This popular religiosity, as it is sometimes referred to, took the form 
of displaying and honoring statues and images in the home, as well as of 
performing communal rituals associated with the saints, such as processions 
and novenas. And so, in addition to learning Jesuit spirituality in the 
novitiate just like everyone else, I also had to pick up a middle-class post- 
Vatican II spirituality that was more interior, less demonstrative. 

Another very important part of the novitiate experience, and 
probably one of the factors that kept me in the Society during those first 
two years, was finding a family within a family in a core group of brother- 
novices. Unlike members of other novice classes of around my time, Ed 
Salmon, Phil Judge, Dean Bechard, Keith Pecklers, Jim Van Dyke, Jim 
Catalano, and I have somehow managed to support one another from the 
very beginning and still see one another frequently; on those occasions we 
still pray and play together. This was and continues to be significant in my 
Jesuit life, for these men have graced me with a sense of family that enabled 
me to continue my journey in the Society. In very tangible ways, by eating 
my picadillo and my family's gifts of guava pastries, for example, and by 
listening to my rantings and ravings about various and assorted subjects, 
they provided and continue to provide the matrix of acceptance and respect 
that with God's grace led me to say yes to first vows in the New York 
Province. 

During those first three years of Jesuit formation, encompassing the 
novitiate and my first year of philosophy studies at Fordham University, I 
also had opportunities to minister to Latinos; and while I was assimilating 
Ignatian spirituality and the New York Jesuit way of proceeding, which 
places such value on intelligence and a quick and sharp tongue, I also had 
taken to heart the call of Pedro Arrupe and General Congregations 31 and 
32 to live out a faith that does justice. I became convinced of the great 
treasure of the Ignatian charism as reformulated by Arrupe and these 
congregations. I saw that they could help me and the Latinos I encountered 
during the various novitiate experiments draw closer to Jesus and serve the 
world. Nonetheless, I remained conflicted: How would someone like me tit 
into the New York Province, even though I was not of Irish descent? 

In the late summer of 1983, I departed for Madrid, Spain, to con- 
tinue my collegiate studies at the Complutense, the great, centuries-old 
Spanish university; furthermore, during the 1984 academic year I studied at 
the Spanish Jesuits' Comillas Pontifical University. The more communitarian 
and restrictive formation that I experienced during these two years in Spain 



6 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

facilitated a new awareness of my American identity. In the wake of the 
more regimented formation imparted at Madrid, the Irish-Americans of the 
New York Province seemed to me to be positively enlightened, and cosmo- 
politan American individualism seemed absolutely liberating after what I 
perceived as an excessive group-think approach to community life so charac- 
teristic of Spanish Jesuit formation. This insight was worked out, not in 
isolation, but very much in the community of other Hispanic-American 
Jesuits studying in Madrid at the time: Eddie Samaniego and Luis Quihuis of 
California, Jose Ignacio Badenes of Maryland, and Jesus Riveroll of Belize. 

During regency at St. Peter's Prep in Jersey City, I learned that the 
ministry of the Spirit knows no boundaries. I found myself helping Ameri- 
can kids of Irish, Italian, and central-European backgrounds, as well as 
Latinos. I realized that the gifts that God has given me as counselor and 
teacher, as well as the gift of my ethnicity, were not just for one group. The 
summers of regency were also an important time to connect with New York 
Province initiatives among Latinos. During the summers of 1987 and 1988, I 
worked with Fr. Joseph Towle, S.J., in an educational and recreational 
program organized around a public middle school in the Hunts Point section 
of south Bronx. This experience was most valuable to me, providing me 
with a sense that, though there were few other Latino Jesuits in the New 
York Province, nonetheless, there were Jesuits in the province who were 
committed to serving the Latino community. Subsequent encounters with 
other Jesuits such as Jeff Chojnacki, Mike Flynn, Damian Halligan, John 
Hyatt, Jack Podsiadlo, and Alfredo Quevedo have been instrumental in 
helping me feel that I belonged to a province as a Latino qua Latino who 
wanted to be involved in Hispanic ministry. The question of which form 
this Hispanic ministry would take, however, remained an open one. As it 
has turned out, my involvement with Hispanics has been different from the 
social-pastoral and middle-school ministries with which these men are still 
involved. 

Theology from 1988 to 1992 was another milestone in the process 
of negotiating my identity in the Society and my eventual role in serving the 
Latino community as a Jesuit and a priest. Along with feminism and libera- 
tion theology, inculturation was a leitmotif that ran through many of the 
courses I took at Berkeley. The presence of Allan Figueroa Deck, S.J., on 
the faculty and the arrangements he made for prominent theologians in this 
field, for example, Marcello Azevedo, S.J., to visit the Jesuit School of 
Theology at Berkeley raised many questions about how being Latino related 
to theology and being a Jesuit priest. The early 1990s saw the birth of a 
Latino contextual-theology movement in the United States, and many of the 
founding figures associated with it either taught at or passed through Berke- 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories 



ley to meet with Allan. Theologians such as Roberto Goizueta, now at 
Boston College, Fr. Orlando Espin of the University of San Diego, and 
Msgr. Arturo Banuelas of the Tepeyac Institute of the diocese of El Paso 
stimulated my thinking on what it meant to be Latino in the U.S. Catholic 
Church. 

The presence of other Latino students at JSTB and the Graduate 
Theological Union was another important part of my Latino theological 
formation at Berkeley. For the first time in an academic setting, I did not 
feel that I was the only one asking questions about what it means to be a 
Latino in the U.S. Church. Hearing questions similar to my own formulated 
by Eddie Fernandez, S.J., or Veronica Mendez, R.C.D., was a significant 
experience of pastoral de conjunto, or a shared approach to ministry that 
features prominently in U.S. Hispanic-Latino theology and pastoral ministry. 
Berkeley not only stimulated the mind, but it fed my Latino soul too. 

During my four years at JSTB, I worked at St. Bernard's Parish in 
Oakland, an Anglo, African- American, Mexican parish led by a Puerto Rican 
pastor from the Bronx, Fr. Eric Vargas, S.V.D., and assisted by Fr. Jaime 
Lara of the Brooklyn Diocese who at the time was in residence while 
completing his doctorate at the GTU. The St. Bernard experience was an 
unveiling experience in the full Heideggerian sense of that word. It opened 
up a world of being a Latino, a Jesuit, and a priest-to-be and reconciled a 
number of conflicts and tensions in my continuing struggle to grow as a 
Jesuit and find a niche in the Society's apostolic body. Working in Oakland 
helped me to integrate my talents as a teacher and Jesuit at the service of the 
Latino community, forming lay leaders of the parish. This initiated me into 
a dimension of my pastoral activity that occupied me for the next decade in 
university, parish, province, and diocesan programs of Hispanic-leadership 
formation from Southern California to Massachusetts and Long Island. 

The experience of ministering to Latinos in these various Hispanic 
pastoral-formation programs also informed my doctoral work at Boston 
College with John O'Malley, S.J., as I explored the life and theology of one 
of our genius-scoundrels, Jose de Acosta, S.J. (1540-1600), who tried to have 
Claudio Aquaviva removed as general, but was also the intellectual author of 
the Reductions and one of only two to raise their voices at GC 5 against 
preventing men of Jewish and Islamic ancestry from entering the Society. 
My doctoral work was motivated by my sense that U.S. Hispanic-Latino 
theology would profit from recovering not only the practice of the faith as 
expressed by popular Catholicism or religiosity but also our Latino theologi- 
cal heritage. Jesuits such as Acosta, Sandoval, Alegre, and Clavijero have 
made a significant contribution to this little-known theological heritage. 



8 •!• William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

But if ministering to Latinos provided a heuristic and hermeneutical 
path for making my way through the thicket of doctoral studies, it also 
brought to the fore a conundrum frequently facing the Latino Jesuit as he 
functions in the world not only of the academy but also of pastoral work. 
In a way that seems more intense than other Jesuit priests perceive it, the 
priest shortage in Latino-Catholic communities in the States compels me to 
struggle to find a modus vivendi between the demands of the often isolated 
and lonely life of research and writing and the pull of pastoral ministry with 
its more immediate results and gratifications. During the first years of 
priestly ministry after doctoral studies, I had to deal with these questions 
and the tensions they engendered in me; and, as is often the case, the 
answers took the form of God's surprises coming my way when superiors 
directed me to try out assignments that I myself would have never requested. 

I now find myself teaching at Fordham University, where my work 
with Latinos has led me along some old but also some new paths. In addi- 
tion to my teaching, writing, and research on Latin American theology, I 
work with Hispanic student groups on campus, regularly preside at a 
televised Spanish Eucharist for the Spanish-speaking communities of Long 
Island, and have been working with the university chaplain, Fr. Gerald 
Blaszczak, S.J., and Latino faculty members who were striving to establish a 
study-abroad program between Fordham and the University of Havana, the 
first such program designed by any Jesuit university in the world. 

I would like to conclude with an anecdote and describe an encoun- 
ter in June 1981 after my first year of novitiate. While trying to deliver a 
letter to a Jesuit in Loyola-Faber Hall at Fordham University, I spied two 
elderly, very Irish-looking Jesuits sitting in rocking chairs on the porch of 
Loyola Hall, conversing and enjoying a smoke and a post-prandial. I climbed 
the stairs and introduced myself as Claudio Burgaleta, a novice from Syra- 
cuse, and explained my mission to deliver a letter on behalf of Father 
Bermingham. After a long pause, one of the Fathers addressed me: "Burgale- 
ta? That doesn't sound Irish to me." Combative wag that I am, without 
missing a beat I responded: "Well, neither is Loyola or Xavier, Father. 
Would you let me in, please, so I can deliver the letter." After what seemed 
to me to be an interminable silence, they both laughed, and one of the 
elderly Jesuits put down his cordial, made his way to the door, and admitted 
me to the house. 

This pericope of my life as a Cuban-American in a predominantly 
Irish- American New York Province is an apt and illustrative metaphor with 
which to end this account of what the last twenty-some-odd years of trying 
to be a Cuban-American in the U.S. Assistancy has involved. Initially it was 
a bittersweet experience of feeling an outsider, but ultimately it led to a 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories 



sense of being accepted for who I am and feeling at home. I write this as I 
get ready to take my final vows at Fordham on July 31, 2001; and I find 
myself filled with both gratitude and ironic bemusement— gratitude for the 
graces received during the last twenty years as I have tried to fashion an 
identity and find a home in the Society, and ironic bemusement at God's 
sense of humor: almost twenty years to the date after my encounter with 
the fathers on the veranda of Loyola Hall, I will be fully incorporated into 
the Society in the New York Province and at Fordham. 



On Being Black and Jesuit 

by Gregory Chisholm, S.J. 

Every Son Needs a Place to Call Home 

I have finally completed my tertianship after twenty-one years in 
the Society. Just recently I finished the eight-day retreat that traditionally 
brings to an end the third probation mandated by Fr. Ignatius and our 
Constitutions for all Jesuits prior to their final vows. The Chicago Province 
program I attended at Milford in southwestern Ohio is the newest two- 
summer tertianship in the assistancy, replacing the long-running Wisconsin 
Province program at Omaha. Bucolic Milford is a long way from my Los 
Angeles home. Nature and culture create a unique blend there for relaxation. 
Recent renovations of the plant at the Spirituality Center have only en- 
hanced the level of comfort for visitors. Retreating and reflecting is easy 
there. Milford, surprisingly, is even a long way from Cincinnati, the city 
that forms the hub around which southwestern Ohio, southeastern Indiana 
and northern Kentucky all revolve. The distance from the chapel at Milford 
to the intersection of East Liberty Street and Vine Street, the center of the 
recent civil unrest (April 2001) in the predominantly African-American Over 
the Rhine neighborhood of Cincinnati, is the distance of centuries, the 
distance of millions of dollars, the distance of academic degrees, the distance 
of mowed lawns, the distance of many varieties of drugs, the distance ol 
debilitating diseases, the distance of consciousness. 

Traveling that distance once weekly during the seven weeks oi the 
first summer of tertianship was quite a journey. Yet I had no alternative. 



Gregory C Chisholm, S.J., is administrator at Holy Name of Jesus Church, 
2190 W. 31st. St., Los Angeles, CA 90018-3423. 



10 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

twenty-one years there has been a chasm between the world I live in as a 
Jesuit and the world I live in as a black Catholic. On Sunday, at least, I have 
to be what seems most authentic to me, what feels most natural to my 
being. Every Sunday I needed to hear a song of divine praise in the key to 
which I had become accustomed. Every Sunday, at least, I wanted to hear a 
prayer to God for salvation from something I knew and feared. If only on 
Sunday, I had to experience the unabashed excitement and joy of a commu- 
nity of people engaged by a living God. During the week I was happy 
enough to pray with my fellow tertians. I welcomed the introspection 
encouraged by the tertian community at prayer. There was certainly no 
desire on my part to encourage them to undertake a style of communal 
encounter with one another and with God at worship that over a period of 
twenty years I had only rarely glimpsed as naturally occurring among Ours. 
I felt like being neither a Pied Piper nor an innovator in their midst. I was 
happy enough accommodating myself to the accepted way of worshiping 
when Jesuits gather at the end of the twentieth century. I simply have come 
to know what I need to survive and thrive in this Jesuit life. I often need to 
celebrate God with an immediacy and depth I find at home among people of 
African descent. I often need to go home to pray. 

The way to tertianship began back in 1996 when I received my first 
invitation to apply from the New England formation assistant. I was teach- 
ing engineering at the University of Detroit Mercy at the time and thought I 
would put the decision aside until I had obtained tenure. What I never 
admitted to the New England formation assistant or the Detroit provincial 
was my lack of conviction concerning tertianship. At a relatively superficial 
level, I excused my doubt by opting for a nine-month tertianship program 
that I could participate in only when I earned a sabbatical from my univer- 
sity. There was, as I saw it, no positive option for tertianship or final vows. 
I had simply the mental state of a long-term rider on a train waiting pas- 
sively for successive stops until the final destination was reached. 

In the Land of the Fathers 

The dilemma was my own. The Jesuit-formation structure could not 
be blamed. Formation is what it is and what it has been. The community 
was not at fault. After several years of regency in Detroit and in residency 
following my ordination, I had become very fond of the Jesuits at the 
university. The city of Detroit itself was a welcome change for one who had 
lived in Boston, London, and Cambridge. I had a comfort there that I had 
not experienced since leaving Harlem in New York City when I was 
eighteen years old. The university was happy with my work. I felt sup- 
ported and encouraged within the School of Engineering. Yet, in spite of all 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories * 11 



these, I had lost a sense of mission. In the years following ordination, my 
sense of how my work at the university promoted justice and served our 
faith in Jesus Christ became less and less clear. I was quickly losing patience 
with the gulf that was growing between who I am and whom I served. 

On the surface of things, the university bears an important witness 
to Jesuits in the apostolate of higher education. Where else, except at 
Detroit, would the majority of students served be people of African descent? 
The University of Detroit Mercy does what other Jesuit universities, col- 
leges, and secondary schools generally don't do. It is committed to meeting 
the academic needs of black students while striving for excellence in educa- 
tion. In the School of Engineering, nevertheless, black students were rare. 
Whether in an introductory class in structural mechanics or an advanced 
class in acoustics, I might as well have been teaching at more typical Jesuit 
colleges or universities. Black professors were even more rare than black 
students. The incongruity of all this was at first humorous, but soon it 
became disturbing. Here I was, black and Jesuit, serving in the center of the 
largest overwhelmingly African-American city at its largest predominantly 
African-American private university, yet teaching engineering science to a 
largely white suburban student body in the company of white and Asian 
colleagues. 

The Jesuit journey, the awareness of who I am as a companion of 
Jesus, informs the personal journey, the awareness of who I am as an adult 
African-American Catholic. Detroit was a turning point on that journey. 
Going on in me was a transition from being a spectator to an actor in this 
drama. At Detroit the dilemma of distance brought me to the point where 
for the first time I participated fully in a discernment regarding my mission. 
Certainly there have been many opportunities for such discernment in my 
life: My father discerned that I would be able to write my own ticket with 
an engineering degree, even though I most enjoyed math and Latin; enlight- 
ened politicos in college discerned that I would be an effective head of the 
student government, even though intercollegiate rowing was what I loved; 
an illustrious Jesuit with compelling viewpoints discerned that I would be 
just what a Jesuit university in Detroit needed, even though he knew 
nothing about me other than my engineering background. What is most 
significant in this catalog of discernment events is that I willingly capitulated 
in each of them. From one perspective I have been an obedient son, a Loyal 
student, and a faithful Jesuit. I have by turns been a symbol of achievement 
or racial harmony or Jesuit foresight. From another perspective I had been 
on everyone's mission but my own. I was a poster boy for the fathers. Yet 
what of the people of God in urban-American communities? If I contented 
myself with pleasing the dads, how would they ever come to know that the 



12 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 



XvX-x-x-x-x::-x-xx : : : x^XvX : : : : : x : x : x ; x : : 



kingdom of God is at hand? The time had come to heal the breach. The 
time had come to participate in the drama. 

Leaving Home to Find It 

When I joined the Jesuits in 1980, a black Catholic friend from high 
school wondered aloud why I would do something like that. He and I were 
torn largely from the same cloth. Both of us grew up in the turbulence of 
the late sixties and early seventies in New York. Both of us were galvanized 
by the emerging black consciousness and militancy of the time. Both of us 
chose to obey a call to return our gifts and our wealth to the black commu- 
nity from which we sprang. When he challenged me that day, I responded 
that the Jesuits and the priesthood would provide a vehicle for fulfilling that 
mandate to give back. Driven by a fundamental belief in salvation through 
Jesus Christ, I could offer my talents to the Lord for the building up of his 
Kingdom in the midst of my own people. The nature of my talents was less 
important than the use to which they would be put by the Lord in bringing 
about his salvation. The talents, like engineering or public speaking, were 
simply a means to serve. The Jesuits were less important than the commit- 
ment to offer myself to the Lord's service. The Society of Jesus is simply a 
means. 

There is in that telling encounter with my friend the kernel of a 
sense of mission that has stayed with me throughout my Jesuit life. The 
challenge has been to embark on that mission maturely. As a novice I was 
too willing to excuse the slight of a professed father who encountered me at 
a jubilee. I was standing with another novice, who was the only other 
person of color in the novitiate, when the Jesuit approached us and intro- 
duced himself. Very quickly he began to bemoan the absence of good Irish 
boys who formerly entered the Society in such great numbers. Without 
giving us a chance to respond, he walked away with a look of disgust. The 
incident would hardly be worth remembering if the sense that not all Jesuits 
were quite equal did not regularly raise its head. There were in our province 
men of Irish, Italian, French Canadian, and Polish background. The leader- 
ship, however, was largely and traditionally in the hands of the Irish. Other 
cultural forces withdrew in their presence, with the result that humor and 
tastes came to be determined largely by the predominant group. Others 
seemed to exist on the margins of the Society in New England. 

Socialization in the province depended somewhat on a scholastic's 
adaptability to the humor (often ethnic humor), tastes, and expectations of 
the group. For my own part, I developed another consciousness. I created 
the consciousness to survive and thrive in the group, but as a guest. I knew 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories + 13 



more about them as a culture, after all, than they knew about my culture. In 
this consciousness I am aware of how to act, how to enjoy the humor, how 
to envision the world, how to draw from the cultural wellspring in the way 
the Irish-Americans do. My own cultural consciousness was there as well, 
sometimes rebelling against the unfairness, sometimes mocking the other, 
sometimes offering protection and consolation, most times bemoaning my 
capitulation and always being the place from which I communicated with 
God. W. E. B. Du Bois, the African-American historian, argued at the 
beginning of the last century that such a tension within one person could 
not last for long. A black man so divided must eventually learn to hate one 
consciousness and love the other, he thought. My first spiritual director said 
that, faced with this difficulty for too long, I would either run away from 
the Society of Jesus or I would become continuously rebellious or I would 
create a fantasy world in which I would live out the rest of my religious life. 
My arrival in Detroit, first as a regent and then as a new priest, forced me to 
find a healthier route along a different path. 

The Ties That Bind 

About 3 percent of the Catholic population in the United States are 
black. About 1 percent of all Catholic priests are black. There are currently 
thirteen Americans of African descent who are Jesuits. That is to say, one- 
third of 1 percent of all Jesuits in the United States Assistancy are Ameri- 
cans of African descent. Black Jesuits are a rare group indeed. No matter 
how the numbers are massaged, black Jesuits remain a very small percentage 
of any Catholic clerical population. The oldest among black Jesuit priests 
entered in 1951, and the youngest entered in 1981. Every province except 
Detroit has at least one African-American member. Two have been novice 
masters, one has been socius to a provincial, some have been superiors, and 
two were ordained bishops. Four are in pastoral ministries, three in higher 
education, two in secondary education, two in specialized apostolates, one 
works for the province, and one prays for the Society. There is another 
distinguishing feature of black Jesuits, however, which I have found particu- 
larly interesting. Almost half of all black American Jesuits have served the 
Church for extended periods of time outside traditional Jesuit works. Most 
of that number have even lived outside a community for some time. 

I am loath to generalize the experience of Jesuits of African descent. 
When we gather, I find a comfortable resonance among the several experi- 
ences, however. All are committed to faith in Jesus' Christ. Most have a role 
in some worshiping community distinct from the Jesuit community. Most 
have, or have had, a proprietary interest in black students or black families 



14 •!• William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

or black communities that derives from their own cultural identity. Most are 
happy in their lives as Jesuits. Almost all have known the tension of being 
black and Jesuit in the United States. Almost all have had to discern choices 
that would offer a measure of peace for their hearts and minds. 

When I left Detroit and higher education to work in a Los Angeles 
parish, several black Jesuits found it hard to understand. One or two 
thought that I had taken leave of my senses. A few thought I had my senses 
quite in hand and was simply positioning myself cleverly for episcopal 
advancement. They found it difficult to accept that I was searching for a 
place where I could stand solidly as a Jesuit and an adult American Catholic 
of African descent. I wanted to work in a place where my own conscious- 
ness would be an equal partner in discernment rather than an observer in 
the discernment of others. In the four years I have served Holy Name of 
Jesus Parish, I have been happier than at any other time in my Jesuit life. I 
feel both more in command of my senses and more in sympathy with 
Ignatius's prohibitions against positions of power and honors (ecclesiastical 
or not) than ever before. 

On any Sunday morning I now rise before a sea of faces that are 
mostly black and somewhat Latino and occasionally white or Asian. Moti- 
vated by the Word of God, I preach what I honestly believe is the good 
news of salvation through Jesus Christ. Drawing on the experiences of 
people just like them, I strive to demonstrate the enduring truth of the 
Gospel. I sympathize with pain and I challenge intransigence. I criticize 
idolatry and encourage holiness. In a symbiotic way we meet one another's 
needs, my congregation and I. We are bound together. The distance between 
me and those I serve has diminished drastically in the midst of my mission 
to Holy Name of Jesus Parish in Los Angeles. The dissociation between 
myself and my Jesuit life has never felt more reconciled. I have found my 
home again. I have come home. 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories + 15 

Four Reasons Why I, a Mexican- American, Joined the 

Society of Jesus and Remain a Member 

by Eduardo C. Fernandez, SJ. 

1 can't say why, but I've always liked lists. When I was a kid, midsummer 
would find me making lists of the types of fireworks I was hoping to be able 
to buy for the Fourth of July. At the end of the summer vacation, as school 
time approached, I would not only make my list of needed school supplies 
but sometimes draw pictures of them. Other lists, such as who had batted 
on my baseball team or who were the altar servers assigned that week, 
accompanied me as I entered adolescence. To this day, I carry around a list 
of to-do's, or que-haceres, written on a white index card. So here's another 
list, one much more profound than what fireworks I'll purchase or how 
many pencils and pens I think I'll need for school. More like the type of 
lists we make on retreat, those enumerating graces, gifts, even pious resolu- 
tions, this list is an attempt to explain a love affair. Not easy, even for a 
passionate Latino like me. But it's about falling in a love with a vision, a 
way of following Jesus, which to this day has not left me in peace, if by 
"peace" you mean conformity, status quo, "just enough to get by." Okay, 
enough introductions. Oh, one more point, as they used to say (more or 
less) in the beginning of the series Dragnet: "The names have been omitted 
to protect the innocent." Those of you still living will recognize yourselves 
in my anecdotes. To you and to our brothers who have gone home to the 
Lord, my eternal gratitude. Now on to "the list." 

/ met model Jesuits who trusted that God would have his way with me 

if they just sowed a few seeds. 

As a boy growing up on the U.S. -Mexican border in El Paso, Texas, I was 
fortunate to meet Jesuits full of life and with a great sense of humor. Jesuits 
of the Mexican Province, some of whom had been born in the United 
States, staffed our parish in Ysleta, a small mission town founded in 1682. 
While I was in grammar school, Jesuit High was still in existence, And 



Eduardo C. Fernandez, S.J., is professor of pastoral theology at the Jesuit School 
of Theology at Berkeley. He resides at Claver House, 2601 LeConte Ave., Berkley, CA 
94709-1097. 



16 ^ William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

occasionally some of its faculty members would take weekend Masses, give 
us Lenten or vocation talks, or even teach at our parochial school. Besides 
thinking that they "seemed really smart to me," I remember how approach- 
able they were. During my high-school years, I worked at the rectory to pay 
my way through the Christian Brothers' school, since by then Jesuit High 
El Paso had closed. Often Mexicans came to the church office to beg. I 
cannot remember any of them being sent away without having received 
some kind of help, financial or otherwise. Countless times I poured out my 
heart to more than one of the Jesuits, knowing that he would listen and 
offer me some practical advice. 

They were also very generous in helping my parents raise eleven 
children. On more than one occasion, I remember them visiting our home. 
Because Jesuits had been numerous in the area since the late-nineteenth 
century, our family was well acquainted with them. At the parish, I met a 
very zealous Mexican Jesuit who had been a good friend of my great-grandfa- 
ther, who had come from New Mexico. My dad once told me that he had 
heard it said that "los jesuitas mueren al pie del canon." 2 My sister, at the 
ripe age of fourteen, was running youth dances and other worthwhile 
activities, thanks to the confidence the pastor put in her and her youth 
group. When I was seventeen, this same Jesuit took me to visit the interior 
of Mexico so that I could get to know my ancestral roots. That trip had a 
profound effect on me as I realized the monumental culture achieved by my 
forebears. 

When you grow up in an area where most of the manual laborers 
speak Spanish, you unconsciously wonder if Spanish is a language that 
characterizes the less educated. Similarly, you wonder if your people are not 
as "cultured" as those in the U.S. mainstream. It was the Jesuits and the 
Christian Brothers and their lay collaborators who taught me that along 
with a William Shakespeare, there had also been a Miguel de Cervantes. 
Likewise, years later, as I pore over writings about popular Catholicism in 
west Texas penned by a French Jesuit who baptized both my dad and me, I 
feel affirmed that, as this wise historian and pastor observed, our Latino 
spirituality is indeed a very profound one. These men kept insisting that our 
Hispanic culture is not only a gift for us but also for others. 



2 This can be loosely translated into English to mean "Jesuits die with their 
boots on" (or "in the thick of the battle.— ED.). 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories ♦ 17 



Amazed by their grasp of languages and the historical anecdotes 
some loved to recount at table, as well as by their reverence when it came to 
humbling themselves before God in prayer or conversation, I had no doubt 
that if I eventually joined the Jesuits, I would get a good education, develop 
a deep spiritual life, and laugh a lot. 

After graduating from high school, I decided to attend Loyola 
University of the South in New Orleans and major in sociology. There I 
encountered men of the same caliber: competent, affable, and fun loving. 
Although I knew better than to come to class unprepared for my sociology- 
of-religion class, I was quite surprised when the professor, a Jesuit sociologist 
who had been very active in the civil-rights movement, would say something 
to this effect, "Mr. Fernandez, since you are the expert in Latin American 
affairs, tell us something about these growing comunidades de base. " 

" Comunidades de what?" I'd think to myself; "why do I have to 
know about these things when the rest of these slobs can sit there in hopeful 
anticipation of quarter-beer night in the quad next Friday, but I have to 
come up with a respectable answer!" Only years later did I realize that my 
professor knew that because I had been privileged to grow up in a bicultural 
world, I had a particular sensitivity to issues south of the border, whether I 
wanted to or not. He knew that my background was an advantage, not a 
handicap. 

There was another wonderful man whom we used to call abuelo 
(grandfather) — though never to his face, of course — who used to invite us to 
his office to listen to classical music. A musicologist and overall Renaissance 
man, he awoke in me an appreciation for the fine arts, and also afforded me 
many opportunities to speak the Spanish I had grown up with in El Paso. 
When I was a senior at Loyola, he shared with me over a pitcher of beer 
that at the age of sixty-five he had been accepted for the international 
apostolate in Paraguay. Overwhelmed by his generosity, I confided to him 
that I too had decided to volunteer for the apostolate, but that for the time 
being I would enter the novitiate at Grand Coteau, Louisiana. 

The Society taught me that God had given me gifts 
and helped me develop them. 

Once a New Orleans newspaper quoted a very well-known, charismatic 
Jesuit as saying something like this: "The Jesuits taught me that I, a river rat 



18 •!• William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S J., Editors 



'%&?/$&&//ss*vy& 



from Algiers [an area across the Mississippi River], had God-given gifts. 
Furthermore, they taught me how to use them for his greater honor and 
glory in the service of humanity." One of the questions I was struggling 
with at the time was whether I, the son of an auto mechanic, could thrive in 
a Society that seemed extremely comfortable in a white-middle-class world, 
where I did not feel comfortable. I recalled what a friend had to say when, 
as an undergraduate, I told him about my decision to join the Jesuits: "Why 
not join another order? You want to work with the poor, and you know 
the Jesuits work chiefly with the rich." Those words in that newspaper story 
came from a man who understood what I was feeling. Yet, the Society had 
provided the means for him to grow. On numerous occasions after that, 
brother-Jesuits shared with me their own family histories. I saw that some 
had come from a working-class background, just as I had, and others from a 
rural background, just like my grandfather, who was an immigrant from 
Mexico. One who was particularly proud of his father's being an active 
member of the boiler's union has a special place in my heart. 

Thanks to superiors who understood how important it was that I 
steep myself in my cultural identity, I had ample opportunities to improve 
my Spanish, both in the United States and in Mexico, to get a master's 
degree in Latin-American studies and to travel to those regions, and finally, 
to work with comunidades de base in Mexico during my third year of 
regency. Maybe now I would be able to answer that Jesuit sociologist's 
inquiry! It was in Mexico that I discovered that I was not Mexican. I remem- 
ber feeling very hurt when one of the Jesuits affectionately called me a 
"gringo"! Me, a gringo! That term referred to the others, not to me. Yet, the 
more I thought about how he had categorized me, the more I realized that 
in many ways I was very North American. In fact, because that was where 
God had arranged for me to be born, I had to embrace that cultural heritage 
also. 

At JSTB for my theology studies, I was graced with exceptional 
teachers who assured me that my questions regarding identity, culture, and 
faith were worth pursuing. Around the time when our brother-Jesuits were 
assassinated at the University of Central America in San Salvador, I volun- 
teered to help with building maintenance and Sunday liturgies at the Oak- 
land Catholic Worker, a refugee home for Central Americans. I remember 
being quite impressed with the minister from the theologate who, in his 
initial attempts at Spanish, would preside at the family-style Eucharists held 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stones * 19 

there. He was the same one who hired most of the maintenance staff who 
continue today to serve the JSTB. 

By sending me out of the country to do further studies, the Society helped me 

to expand my horizons significantly. 

When I was in Rome for further studies in the early nineties, I was surprised 
to hear so often that I did not seem to come from the United States. Some- 
one who grew up on the U.S. -Mexican border in a city that is always 
drawing the line between them (Mexico) and us (the United States), at first I 
found this difficult to explain. On occasion, I might even be introduced as 
someone from Mexico. For this and other reasons, I found myself with 
another identity crisis. Who was I? The wisdom I had received as a child 
proved very beneficial. As I had been told, I was both, Mexican and North 
American. That meant I could draw from the riches of both. In my house, 
the Collegio Bellarmino, whose residents came from over twenty countries, I 
could converse with just about everyone in Spanish or English. With a 
second glass of wine at meals, my Italian (which was really Spanish with a 
few more vowels added to the ends of words) became amazingly fluent. As I 
was spending my novitiate experiment in the lower Rio Grande Valley in 
Texas, I quickly realized that my linguistic and cultural heritage could be a 
great bridge builder, and that therefore I brought with me some import am 
gifts from my culture. And at times when I felt anxious because of my 
identity, God seemed to send me people from all over the world who had 
been forced to navigate even-deeper waters in terms of interculturality. 
Incidentally, I also realized how hard it is to learn a language (even a lan- 
guage as close to Spanish as Italian is) from scratch. I found myself more 
tolerant of my poor Jesuit brothers back home who found themselves 
struggling to learn Spanish. 

As an international order, we Jesuits are challenged to cross these 
linguistic barriers, seeing them as an opportunity to learn the art of dialog. 
Ideals like inculturation and interreligious dialog can only come about 
through the painstaking work and humility that result from trying to learn a 
language. That is true especially when it is not clear how one will use this 
new language in his ministry, as when U.S. novices are required to learn 
Spanish. Beyond linguistic humility, my days in Rome and other experiences 
of living with brothers from different parts of the world taught me that 
there is always a situation, cultural or otherwise, much more difficult than 



20 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

mine. Listening to stories of clandestine Spiritual Exercises told by Jesuits 
from the former Soviet Union or hearing a young Central American Jesuit 
describe how he and the other scholastics cleaned up the blood after the 
slaughter of the UCA martyrs left me feeling that my struggles to fit into a 
North American Society of Jesus were nothing compared to their experi- 
ences. 

In these situations of living in international communities, whenever 
I was tempted to prejudge others on the basis of what country they were 
from, I would ask myself, "What if they determined that you were like this 
or that simply because you are from the States or of Mexican ancestry?" 

Having been challenged by the Society, I also feel called to humbly suggest 
some places where I, a member of an ethnic minority, feel that Jesuits 

need to be challenged. 

Every now and then, in parishes, lay-formation classes, workshops, or 
retreats, I meet a young Latino, often an immigrant, who seems a great 
potential Jesuit candidate except for his not being college material now and 
being too old for some of the educational opportunities that I was given in 
my early teens. Should I encourage him to consider joining our minima 
Compania de Jesus} Especially when I have in mind someone I directed 
through a nineteenth-annotation retreat, someone who eagerly took to 
Ignatian spirituality and has a gift for working with people, I can't help 
wondering why we can't or don't make room for a person like that. I see 
how other religious communities on the West Coast appear to be doing 
much more than we to welcome such a candidate. For example, there are 
candidacy houses, ESL (English-as-a-second-language) classes, community 
colleges, and the like all within a religious community enviionment. True, 
many of these candidates eventually leave the religious community, but I see 
a small group of persons who are not from the dominant white-middle-class 
culture but are starting to form a critical core. And in any case, some of the 
ones who leave go on to do good work in various parish and diocesan 
ministries, as do some of the students we had in our minor seminaries. 

By holding too rigidly to what constitutes the ideal candidate, 
whether in terms of age or education, are we unaware of how members of 
other cultures view life and thus lose possible candidates? For many persons 
from cultural backgrounds where family is central, life choices such as those 
involving marriage or careers are often made at a much earlier age. There- 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories <fr 21 



:-:•:•:•:■:•: •:•: : :• - :•: :•:■:■:•: 



fore, by the time we evaluate them as college material, they have embraced 
other vocational options. Put quite simply, in some cultures, because of 
economic and familial responsibilities some young men are forced to mature 
sooner than young men in the dominant culture. In the same vein, we must 
take into account the important role that families often play in the lives of 
these men. One cannot assume that a vocation decision is theirs alone. 

Also, it seems to me that the majority of our apostolates and 
resources in this country are dedicated to the middle and upper classes, not 
the poorer sectors of society. While relatively recent projects such as the 
Nativity schools, Cristo Rey High School in Chicago, the Jesuit Volunteer 
Corps, community-service programs operating out of our high schools, 
inner-city parishes, refugee ministries, and the like are models of committed 
insertion among the poor, we still have a long way to go. I'll never forget a 
province meeting in which one of the Jesuits in the high-school apostolate 
declared that he was from a working-class family. He went on to mention 
other Jesuits in the room who were in the same boat. He concluded, u My 
concern today is that none of us who had the privilege of a Jesuit education 
would be able to afford it today." 

I end with a call for more compassion among the brethren. That a 
Jesuit happens to be a member of a particular racial or ethnic minority does 
not mean that he represents that group or will necessarily be conversant in 
that culture. For example, many second-, third-, and later-generation Latinos 
no longer speak Spanish. I am concerned that sometimes we first-generation 
hyphenated Americans often ask these men to measure up to "what we are 
supposed to be like if we hold on to our culture." This approach ignores our 
need to assimilate in many ways to the U.S. culture in order to be able to 
function in it. This assimilation shouldn't necessarily be seen as a bad thing; 
after all, all cultures are dynamic. They change by adapting themselves to 
different times and circumstances. 

We have a saying in Spanish, "Dios sabe lo que hace." 3 I consider It 
extremely providential that God invited me, through the men I have men- 
tioned and the support of my family and parish community, to become part 
of this least Society of Jesus. At times when it seemed as though fear, lack of 
self confidence, mediocrity, ethnocentrism, or hopelessness would swallow 
me, it has been for me a formidable companion, assuring me, in the words 



" (God knows what he is doing.) 



22 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

of Fr. Ignatius, that God will never be outdone in generosity. Gracias, o 
Dios, por estos fieles companeros? 



Little Brown Brother 

by Gerdenio Manuel, SJ. 

-Ziithough I'm a California Province Jesuit, I am a native New Yorker: 
born at St. Luke's Hospital in Manhattan, I attended kindergarten at PS 22 
and grade school at St. Michael's in Flushing. Having grown up in the fifties 
in Whitestone and Flushing in the borough of Queens, I remember New 
York as a warm and welcoming city. Our neighborhood was mostly Jewish, 
Italian, and Irish-American. We were the only Pilipinos and the only Asians 
in the neighborhood, but it didn't seem to matter. 5 Our closest friends were 
the Fantuzzis across the street, and all the neighborhood families were 
welcome in one another's homes and apartments. I didn't recognize anything 
different about myself or my family other than that all of us were noticeably 
shorter than everyone else. 

Being short or small did not hold any of us back. After work my 
father went to night school to complete the undergraduate and graduate 
degrees that enabled him to pursue a lifetime career in the Philippine 
Foreign Service. At St. Michael's, my sister once was the May Queen and I 
was class president several years running. The Sisters of Saint Joseph, 
Brentwood, were remarkably even-tempered, fair with praise and the ruler, 
and especially patient with the newly arrived students from Cuba who had 
some trouble with English. At compulsory benediction, as we sang the 
"Tantum ergo" with all the lights out in the church and the smell of incense 



(Thank you, Lord, for these faithful companions!) 

5 Filipino- American activists spell Filipino with a P, in contrast to the Spanish 
and American-colonial spelling, which uses an F even though the letter F did not exist in 
Philippine native dialects. 



Gerdenio M., S.J., is vice-provost and professor of psychology at Santa Clara 
University; his address is Santa Clara Jesuit Community; 500 El Camino Real; Santa 
Clara, CA 95053-1600. 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories 4" 23 

everywhere, there was the sense that all of us at St. Michael's belonged to 
God and perhaps even to one another. It seemed there was nothing more 
important than being Catholic, no matter who you were or where you were 
from. 

Adolescence and later-life experience would complicate my naive 
understanding of race, religion, culture, faith, and community. One of my 
earliest memories of what it meant to be Pilipino was the boast I heard over 
and over again from middle-school classmates that General MacArthur and 
the United States "saved" the Philippines, which in their minds clearly 
established the superiority of the United States and the American people 
over the Philippines and Pilipino people. This made me in their words a 
"little brown brother." 6 At home, former U.S. Army doctors— who along 
with my mother, a Pilipina U.S. Army nurse, were World War II prisoners 
of war and survivors of the Bataan death march— talked instead about shared 
suffering, surviving together, serving one another, and the extraordinary acts 
of kindness and generosity they had experienced. As my mother blushed in 
silence, they told me stories of her courage and fortitude in their most trying 
circumstances and of her compassion for the soldiers under her care. They 
made their visits to our home occasions for remembering and expressing 
their gratitude. Being small and Pilipino mattered in different ways to 
different people, and was beginning to matter to me. 

Like the Vietnamese who would later also be identified with an 
unforgettable war, Pilipino-Americans still struggle with the myth and 
reality of World War II and U.S. colonization, and continue to fight for the 
veteran rights and benefits that the U.S. government had promised its "little 
brown brothers and sisters." Within American popular culture and society, 
we aim to establish our identity as a unique ethnic group with a distinctive 
cultural history as well as a contemporary set of political concerns. 

In my more than thirty years as a Jesuit, I can recall several experi- 
ences that helped me understand how Jesuits and others failed to appreciate 
the extent to which my cultural context and self-understanding determine 
how I live my life, my ministry, and my priesthood in the Society. Some- 
times, there were "innocent" insults rooted in ignorance or mistaken attribu- 
tions. I have never forgotten a famous interchange following a university 



A term made popular during the U.S. colonial period by William Howard 
Taft, first governor-general of the Philippines; it is also used in reference to other 
indigenous peoples. 



24 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

lecture on missiology by historian Fr. Horatio de La Costa, a former Philip- 
pine provincial and at that time one of Fr. Arrupe's general assistants. With 
some impatience, a priest commented in a thick Irish brogue, "Tell me 
Father, until the arrival of our Christian missionaries, weren't the Filipinos 
pagan, after all?" To which Fr. de La Costa patiently replied, "No, Father, 
they were animists. They worshiped the god of the trees, the god of the 
rivers, the god of the lakes— they were animists, Father, just like the Irish." 

In the years to come, the grace and wit of his reply helped me 
respond kindly or at least silently when, greeting people at the church doors, 
I would be met with "Father, welcome to St. Theresa's; it must be Mission 
Sunday," or, "Thank you, Father; it was a lovely Mass and you speak such 
beautiful English," or, "We just love the islands!" In the Jesuit dining room 
at Santa Clara University during my early years as a faculty member, I was 
walking by one of the tables at lunch when a guest snapped his fingers at 
me, signaling me to clear the table and bus his dishes. Neither educational 
achievement, living in a religious community, nor holy orders made me 
immune from the stereotyping, entitlement, and rudeness that our kitchen 
and household help — many of whom are Pilipino or Latino in the California 
Province — sometimes experience from our guests or even from ourselves. 
After all, not too long ago California law prohibited Pilipinos from marry- 
ing whites, and in my college years I can recall a good friend awkwardly 
informing me that her Sicilian parents preferred that their daughter find 
another date for the freshman dance. 

I would like to believe that we've come a long way from those 
days, especially in the Society; but sometimes I wonder. When I was Califor- 
nia's formation director and for a time also vocation director, many in our 
province were delighted with the growing diversity of our scholastics. 
Others would ask, "How many speak English?" or, "Are you sure they are 
prepared for our course of studies?" or, believe it or not, "Not counting the 
minorities, how many vocations do we have?" Similarly, when it was time 
for regency assignments, I would have to engage in prolonged and intense 
conversation with some administrators to convince them that our scholastics 
of color were as capable of meeting ordinary teaching and pastoral responsi- 
bilities as were their peers. "And what about their accents; what's being 
done about that?" I've frequently wondered why European accents are 
considered charming while Asian or Hispanic ones are not. 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories ♦ 25 

I have often been questioned about my credentials, experience, and 
training— right down to where I studied and when I received my degrees. 
When visiting other communities in the assistancy, I found that some Jesuits 
were surprised and incredulous that I was California's formation director, a 
clinical psychologist, and a tenured university professor. More recently, a 
former high-school Jesuit administrator visiting my community at Santa 
Clara lamented over dinner that his prep school was admitting "Qwoks, 
Chins, and Nguyens" while rejecting some students of Irish and Italian 
"heritage," some of whom were even relatives of Jesuits. More subtly, in 
group settings I've sometimes observed that Jesuits of color are neglected in 
conversation, albeit unconsciously, to the extent that some Jesuits even fail 
to make eye contact with us. Often enough, these experiences within the 
Society leave me feeling "invisible" and, like people of color in so many 
different situations, without legitimate claim to position or place, "guests" at 
the big house and without a voice. 

While some experiences in the Society have challenged and even 
hurt me, I remain grateful and proud to be a Jesuit. I have experienced the 
profound depth of community life and the transforming power of our 
ministry. As a Pilipino who highly values and needs companionship, I have 
always felt the presence and support of the Society in times of personal crisis 
and pain. When my parents wanted to return home to the Philippines after 
fifty years of living in the States, and later when they had to be separated 
because of my father's advancing dementia, Jesuits offered to help me, so 
that I would not face these challenges alone, even in the Philippines. When 
my father had to return to California for medical treatment and for a time 
when he was in need of some assisted living before returning to the Philip- 
pines, the rector at Santa Clara University at that time welcomed him into 
our infirmary and community. And when each of my parents died, a close 
Jesuit friend traveled with me to the Philippines and helped me bury them 
and care for my extended family. In these and numerous other instances of 
faithful and compassionate support, the Society's love has been unwavering 
and unconditional, beyond what I had ever thought possible. 

With the same power and grace, Jesuit life and ministry have given 
me the opportunity to deepen my love for others and my appreciation for 
the diversity of our world. The witness of my Jesuit brothers through the 
years, especially with regard to the preferential option for the poor, has 
challenged me to travel where I would never have had the courage to 
venture alone, and to stretch my own cultural and class boundaries to 



26 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

discover the breadth and range of God's concern for all peoples and nations 
whether in the barrios of Manila, the campos of Salvador, the favellas of 
Brazil, or the inner cities of our own country. Ultimately, the challenge of 
multiculturalism and diversity is not about individuals or even groups simply 
being at home, but about discovering the world as our common ground and 
justice and service as our common destiny. 

We need to see with more discerning eyes how differences matter 
and how they don't. A close Jesuit friend who knows me as well as anyone 
else long believed that my most distinctive traits were simply idiosyncratic. 
However, after spending time with my family in the Philippines, he con- 
cluded, "Oh my God, the whole country is populated with people like you." 
I have no doubt that most Jesuits in my province identify Pilipinos with 
lumpia and chicken adobo, bamboo dances, the blessing of homes and cars, 
and elaborate folk celebrations and rituals. But few have deep insight into 
the Pilipino psyche — the paramount importance, for example, of pakikisama y 
utang na loob, and lambing, to name just a few possible Pilipino character 
traits that I also embrace as my own. Loosely translated, pakikisama is 
cooperation, utang na loob combines loyalty, reciprocity, and gratitude, and 
lambing is the need to express and receive solace, favor, and affirmation from 
important lifelong relationships. These attributes can combine to form a 
leadership style or way of working very different from the typical American 
"alpha male" paradigm that stresses dominance, power, and assertiveness. 
Positively interpreted, Pilipinos can be viewed as process-oriented, sensitive 
and compassionate, respectful of and even deferential to authority. We value 
relationships— especially among friends and co-workers— more than position 
or place or products; and we lead "from behind" by persuasion, affirmation, 
and kindness. Viewed negatively, we can seem wishy-washy, maudlin, and 
sentimental. We can appear to be fawning, cliquish, manipulative, and 
lacking independence and self-assertion. Positively and negatively, this 
leadership and working style is clearly different and must be carefully 
interpreted when one tries to understand how Pilipinos may or may not be 
expressing their needs, hopes, and dreams. From an assimilationist perspec- 
tive, I certainly have learned that I may need to put aside my cultural 
proclivities to be heard and counted. On the other hand, from the perspec- 
tive of acculturation and rapidly changing demographics, the Society and its 
various institutions will also need to see the present and future reality 
through many new eyes and to appreciate the leadership and working styles 
of different and sometimes recently arrived cultures and communities. If we 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories * 17 



are not to remain guests in this house, ask us what we need to be genuinely 
at home and to become full partners in serving God's people, and hear us in 
our own voice. 

I still believe in what I learned from my Pilipino family and from 
the Sisters at Saint Michael's— that we all belong to God and to one another. 
But through my Jesuit life and ministry, I have also come to trust in the 
God of Pentecost, who created all the ways we have been fed throughout 
our lifetimes by our families and our cultural heritage. As we discover who 
we are and tell our life stories to others, they will understand what God has 
created in us— even what is most different from them and unique to us. As 
we listen to each other's stories, we will realize that all of us are summoned 
to the same table, where God feeds us not only with familiar food and 
spirits but also with the new and untried food and spirits of God's most 
recent revelation. And here, around the Lord's table, God's grace will make 
us mindful of those not yet at the table, those who haven't found their 
places, those whose stories are yet to be heard. 



Not Unlike Augustine of Hippo 
by J-Glenn Murray, S.J. 

l\ Christian at 33, a priest at 36, a bishop at 41: everyone is familiar with 
the biographical sketch of Augustine of Hippo, a sinner turned saint." 7 A 
Catholic Christian at 10, a presbyter at 29, a bishop not as of this writing at 
51, and with some certainty, never: some are familiar with my biographical 
sketch, surely a sinner and the stuff of no small amusement for select 
gatherings of "Ours." 

The town of my birth, Philadelphia, unlike Augustine's Tagaste, is a 
major city and not far from "the shore." Flirting with the error of the 
Manichees has thus far not been a temptation, though I have been described 



Leonard Foley, Saint of the Day: Lives and Lessons for Saints and Feasts of the 
New Missal (Cincinnati: St. Anthony Messenger Press, 1990), 223. 



J-Glenn Murray, S.J., is director of the Office for Pastoral Liturgy for the 
Diocese of Cleveland and professor of homiletics at St. Mary's Seminary. 



28 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

as the only black Pelagian still afoot. My mother, though very proud of me, 
has on occasion "wept bitterly" when thinking of me. Yet, it was I who 
prayed for and preceded her into the heart of the Roman Church that we 
both cherish. My father, at one time a thoroughgoing atheist, could hardly 
be described as an "idolater and of violent disposition" (though at times, the 
true truth being told, there has been a tendency toward both). No one who 
has ever met me has left me not knowing of my "love of the language" of 
Shakespeare and Toni Morrison both. And my rage for rhetoric is re- 
nowned. Nevertheless, there are no scribes scribbling my "profound mysta- 
gogy" and "penetrating homilies" for generations to come. I have not 
"entered into relations with a woman, irregular though stable" and have no 
son. Finally and most assuredly, my "prophetic and philosophical legacy" to 
the Church will only be described as lean, even negligible. 

With so many differences between the sainted Augustine and me, 
when asked for an essay "describing how I achieved and continue to experi- 
ence a Jesuit identity among many northern-European Americans while 
maintaining my own cultural roots and genius," why did I entitle it "Not 
unlike Augustine of Hippo"? Simple, like every other black Jesuit and not 
unlike Augustine, I have had to negotiate two worlds, two cultures. Not 
unlike Augustine and perhaps some other Jesuits, I have heard a child's voice 
cry, "Tolle lege! Tolle lege!" (Take it up and read it!) and I have. Let me 
explain. 

First a story. Once while I was pacing about a neighborhood in 
Dallas, Texas, I came upon an elderly black woman at a bus stop. Having 
been raised a polite child, I stopped and said: 

"Good morning." 

"Mornin', baby." 

"How are you?" 

"Honey, let me tell you!" 

"So, how are you?" 

"Honey, I'm blessed!" 

"Awright, now!" 

"And you know why I'm blessed?" 

"No, but I'm sure you're going to tell me." 

"I'm blessed because God woke me up this morning. Kept the four 
corners of my room and my bed from becoming the narrow confines of a 
greedy grave. Clothed me and a representative few of us on this planet in 
our right minds." 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories «fr 29 



And then she just burst into song: "What a mighty God we serve. 
What a mighty God we serve. Angels bow before him. Heaven and earth 
adore him. What a mighty God we serve." 

I could only stammer, "Amen!" 

"No, honey, I need your help. I need some support." 

So the two of us, at a bus stop in the Dallas noonday sun, sang, 
"What a mighty God we serve ..." 

That woman taught me an essential of Christianity: an attitude of 
gratitude. I have not since forgotten that lesson. What other response could 
one muster for such wondrous love— a sacrificial love that has won for us 
our well-being and redemption, life and grace in God, the Father, through 
Christ Jesus, by the power of the Holy Spirit. 

My blessings are manifold. I was blessed with a wonderful immedi- 
ate family. My mother, Lillian Marie, taught me a joie de vivre that is still 
made manifest in my love of entertaining. My father, James Albert, helped 
me navigate the ways of the Western world and the hermeneutic of suspi- 
cion (more on that later). My sister, Jacqueline Denise, schooled me in 
unconditional love. 

Contrary to what screen writers of a certain ilk would have us 
believe, my experience of religious women, namely, the "Glen Riddle" 
Franciscans, was nothing short of sublime. While others dreamed of being 
firefighters and doctors, and mommies and daddies, I longed to be a "Sister" 
(no more on that). My niece has as her middle name Mercedes, after Sr. 
Marie Mercedes, O.S.F. (a.k.a. Sr. Susan Dentz, O.S.F.), so great was her 
influence and love. 

It was in the midst of all these childhood blessings that I received 
the greatest blessing: the sacraments of initiation. Though I did not know it 
at the time, what I experienced was what is inscribed at the baptistery at 
Saint John Lateran in Rome: 

Here is born in Spirit-soaked fertility a brood destined for another City, 
begotten by God's blowing and borne upon this torrent by the Church 
their virgin mother. Reborn in these depths they reach for heaven's realm, 
the born-but-once unknown by felicity. This spring is life that floods the 
world, the wounds of Christ its awesome source. Sinner, sink beneath this 
sacred surf that swallows up age and spits up youth. Sinner, here scour sin 
away down to innocence, for they know no enmity who are by one font, 



30 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 



one Spirit, one faith made one. Sinner, shudder not at sin's kind and 
number, for those born here are holy. 8 

In the midst of all these early blessings, I also knew what Augustine 
knew, what so many other children of Africa have known when confronting 
a colonizing culture: "double consciousness," namely, "two souls, two 
unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals within one dark body, whose 
dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder." 9 It was in the 
midst of this striving that / first heard, "Tolle lege!" 

Though my mother's extended family was "bright, high yellow," 
they loved their blackness and their Southern roots, despite the allure to do 
and be otherwise. The sword side of the family was "deeply dark" and 
reveled unabashedly in that self-same "Negritude." Somewhere in the midst 
of all this rejoicing, I heard a cry: "Tolle lege!" Hearing, I obeyed. What I 
took up and read quite conscientiously, however, were the "ways of the 
white man." 

This summons was quite indistinct while growing up in the projects 
of "North Philly" surrounded by family, friends, and a host of "play sisters, 
cousins, and aunts." This summons was rather faint at Saint Elizabeth's 
school where the population was totally "colored." Moving to a predomi- 
nantly white neighborhood, church, and school beckoned what was sotto 
voce to a full-throated blare. 

Hearing, I obeyed. I became the model cultured little boy. By the 
time I had finished grade school and my studies at Saint Joe's Prep (our high 
school in Philadelphia), I was remarkably proficient in the language of 
Shakespeare and the sisters Bronte, of Wilde, Frost, Dickinson, Hemingway, 
and Salinger. I could and did bask in Bach and revel in Ravel. I appreciated 
pasta, paella, and the artery-hardening sauces of the French before they 
adopted a cuisine that was nouvelle. I could show gratitude with a "Merci." 
With Xenophon I could pine, "Thalatta! Thalatta!" and opine with Cicero, 
"O tempora! O mores!" and no less, "Dum anima est, spes est." I even knew 
the difference between a Silver Bullet and a Negroni (not bad for an 
eighteen-year-old who learned both in the year of The Graduate and Mame!, 
the year of the deaths of Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert Francis Ken- 
nedy). I had visited Rome! I had picked up, read, meditated on, and appro- 
priated the ways of whites. In a racist and class society, I had taken up my 
position of accommodation. The only protest was asking God why I was 



8 Aidan Kavanagh, trans., The Shape of Baptism: The Rite of Christian Initiation 
(New York: Pueblo, 1978), 49. 

9 W. E. B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folk (New York: Vintage Brooks/The 
Library of America, 1990), 8 f. 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories •!• 31 



cursed with being born black. Safe to say, I was self-loathing. Racism is a 
pernicious reality! 

Then, on September 7, 1986, I entered our least Society and the 
voice that had been so uniform to that point changed its tune, not only in 
tenor but in timbre. Hearing, I obeyed. I picked up and read— experienced— 
the Spiritual Exercises. What a sound it echoed in my soul! Indeed the 
Exercises had soul, "the power to move and to evoke movement, i.e., 

"10 

emotion. 

This word "emotion" is a tricky one. For many children of Africa it 
is a way of knowing. 

This emotive way of knowing is not based primarily on the sense of 
sight as in the ocular, print-oriented culture of Europe, but on the African 
oral tradition, which tends to be poetic rather than literal. Whereas the 
European way might be summarized in Descartes' "I think, therefore, I 
am," the African model might be "I am, I dance the Other, I am." 

. . . [I]n this way of knowing "there is a natural tendency for inter- 
penetration and interplay, creating a concert or orchestration in which the 
ear sees, the eye hears, and where one both smells and tastes color; wherein 
all the senses, unmuted, engage in every experience." This way of knowing 
does not exclude a discursive dimension. It simply states that emotion is the 
primary way of knowing among African peoples and their descendants. It 
attests that objective detachment and analytical explanations are useful, but 
are not the sole means of communicating faith. And lastly, it asserts that 
peoples everywhere are not poetic or discursive, but both poetic and 
discursive. 11 

This is the way of the Spiritual Exercises: "meditations . . . which 
the retreatant reads, ponders, and prays over in order to be informed, 
impressed, moved, and affected by them" (emphasis added). 12 The goal of this 
way of knowing is the ability to discern God's will and the freedom to do 
it. "Ideally, these exercises become, with practice over time, an habitual 
modus operandi. " u 



Clarence Rivers, Soulfull Worship (Washington, D.C.: National Office for 
Black Catholics, 1974), 14. 

11 Secretariat for Liturgy and the Secretariat for Black Catholics of the National 
Conference of Catholic Bishops, Plenty Good Room: The Spirit and Truth of African 
American Catholic Worship (Washington, D.C.: United States Catholic Conference, 1990), 
nos. 86 f. 

James L. Connor, "St. Ignatius' Spiritual Exercises: Woodstock's Way of 
Promoting Justice," in Jesuit Saturdays: Sharing the Ignatian Spirit with Lay Colleagues and 
Friends, by William J. Byron (Chicago: Loyola Press, 2000), 5. 

13 Ibid., 5. 



32 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

The Spiritual Exercises affected me deeply. In them I found safe 
shelter, harbor, and home. My imagination was piqued, my soul was stirred. 
I was both excited and incited, though I did not know why. What I did not 
know then, but know now is that there is a voice in the Exercises clearly 
resonant in an African-American spirituality that is contemplative, holistic, 
communitarian, joyful, and emotive. 14 

The aim of the Exercises is to come (a) to understand Christ's mission: 
what it is for and what it fights against ("to know him more clearly"), (b) to 
admire him ("to love him more dearly"), and (c) to feel drawn to join him in 
his struggle and to follow on his mission ("to follow him more nearly"). 15 
This has always been the aim of the Black Church. 

Even without my knowing it, Ignatian spirituality was in my soul, 
because, try as I might have to escape it, the African-American religious 
worldview was in my soul. Without having to dig deeply, one can see rather 
easily a connection between Ignatius and those of us who are heir to the 
black religious experience. Both, he and we, experienced poverty and 
persecution. Ignatius was constantly in and out of jail and lived under some 
of the worst conditions imaginable. He and we have been strangers in a 
strange land. He had to leave Spain because of the harassment of the Inquisi- 
tion. He and we are incredibly Christocentric. And in the midst of "every 
danger, toil, and snare," both we and Ignatius found a profound intimacy 
with and trust in God. The Exercises worked, and I was off to discern God's 
will, hoping to do it. 

Early on I discerned that God's will for me was in the arts, in 
liturgy, in education, with and among white people. Superiors had discerned 
and decided that what was to God's greater glory and the help of my soul 
was a very different will. They discerned a cry that directed me to take up 
and read my blackness. Their cry was sankofa (retrieval). It was a battle cry. 
And the battle was on! 

It is not important to recount here the war plans, the battles or 
victories at Durham and Baltimore, the blood-stained streets of my soul, or 
even the final Peace Treaty of 1989 negotiated by the gentle James A. 
Devereux, S.J., and the vigilant (Arch)bishop James Patterson Lyke, O.F.M. 
(heroes, but that's another essay!). As instructive as it has been for me, the 
retelling might only serve to numb. Some short incidents, however, might 
engage the reader. 



14 Plenty Good Room, nos. 78-104. 

15 Connor, "Spiritual Exercises," 5. 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories *b 33 



The first occurred in the winter of 1973. After a summer of sankofa 
in Chicago under the direction of two compelling black priests, Frs. George 
Clements and Paul Smith, I returned to collegiate studies with a changed 
name and a new attitude that could only be described as "Up against the 
wall, you expletives deleted!" Among other things, I had learned the power 
of the spirituals, arguably one of the greatest contributions made by people 
of color to this land. While many even now perceive them simply as pallia- 
tive, my experience of them was not unlike Cheryl Kirk-Duggan's. She avers 
that in the spirituals 

[t]he singers talked "face to face" with Old Testament heroes and heroines, 
and their New Testament co-suffering Jesus. Slaves appropriated basic 
theological ideas to express their religious cosmology and passion for 
freedom. The spiritual's core message focused on the protest hermeneutic of 
survival and hope. 16 

In that summer of sankofa, I learned that at the height of our 
enslavement we protested our captivity and sang of freedom not only in that 
great by and by, but here and now. In those heady days of the abolitionist 
movement, we sang the hymnody from such great liturgical books as Edwin 
F. Hatfield's Freedom's Lyre. While others at the turn of the century were 
celebrating a new century, we were concerned about ushering in the King- 
dom. We sang the great hymns of Henry Sloane Coffin, Ambrose White 
Vernon, Mabel Mussey, and Mornay Williams. During the Civil Rights 
Movement we sat at counters, we marched in the streets, we boycotted, and 
we continued to sing. We dug deep into our past and brought forth those 
songs of protest that had galvanized our forebears in days gone by. Even 
when not on bended knee in church, we sang. We sang the blues and were 
moved from lament to praise. Though our praising drums were taken away 
from us, we shouted and clapped and moaned and stomped in rhythm. 
Underlying all this activity was protest and praise. 17 

Though I was praising God when I returned to Fusz Memorial, the 
scholasticate in St. Louis at that time, it was my protesting that was heard. I 
was angry, and superiors who had sent me away to become black were 
perplexed: "This is not what we meant at all. This is not what we meant at 
all!" 

Unleashing blackness, calling for authentic diversity, is risky busi- 
ness. Those who do so often forget that such a call cannot be contained to 



16 Cheryl Kirk-Duggan, "African American Spirituals, in A Troubling in My Soul, 
ed. Emilie Townes (Orbis, 1993), 156. 

17 See Jon Michael Spencer, Protest and Praise: Sacred Music of Black Religion 
(Fortress, 1990). 



34 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

ethnic roots alone. It often engenders other questions of class, gender, and 
sexual identity. And in the case of the Society, issues of class are the most 
contentious. You are welcome to be whatever you wish as long as you are 
of our class (so some would contend). 

His dictis, I had decided that I could no longer live with white 
people in a racist and oppressive environment. I informed my father, the 
atheist and skeptic, who thus informed me: "I don't believe in God, but I 
don't know anyone who does as much as you. You could no more stop 
being a Jesuit or becoming a priest than you could stop taking in air. It is 
who you are. You have to do what we all have done: deal with it! Sure, 
they're racist, but they are your brothers and I have seen the love that you 
and they have for one another. They can benefit. You already have!" 

The second incident occurred shortly after I was ordained. I had 
been sent to our parish, Holy Cross, in Durham, N.C. After a meeting at 
which I was waxing brilliant on all manner of things, "a mother of the 
church," Dr. Barbara Nixon smiled politely and said: "Child, you have more 
to learn from us than we have from you. It's time to do a doctorate in 
blackness. We'll teach you and if you're smart and learn something, perhaps 
we'll even grant the degree!" 

The third and fourth, the final, incidents took place in Baltimore 
while I was teaching at St. Frances Academy, the oldest black Catholic high 
school in the Western Hemisphere. After a particularly exasperating class in 
English, Joanne Williams blurted, "The problem with you, Father, is that 
you talk like white people and you want us to do the same." I bellowed, 
"Honey, white people only wish that they could speak as I do." 

About a month later I was conducting a workshop on racism. 
During the question-and-answer period, a man asked me about the Maryland 
Province and slavery. I responded, and then a black woman remarked, 
"Don't you find it at least ironic, if not troubling, that you just said, 'Yes, 
we had slaves'?" 

The waters of double consciousness are still being troubled. And not 
unlike Augustine, I continue to wade, trying with all my might not to be 
devoured by the Scylla of racism or swallowed up by the Charybdis of 
righteous anger. To quote many a black grandmother: "It ain't easy!" But I 
am grateful. 

I am most grateful to the Society of Jesus. This happy band, this 
least society, has been an instrument of my well-being and sankofa, begin- 
ning with those who taught me at St. Joe's (thank you, Frank Nash, Steve 
Garrity, Tom Roach, Bill Watters, George Aschenbrenner) up to this present 
moment, and with the friendships (Jesuit and lay) that have been and are 



How Multicultural Are We? Six St ono 4» J5 



inexpressibly consoling and no less challenging. Here, I have been able to 
discern God's will continually and join with others under the banner of 
Christ to serve God, the Church, and all creation (thank you, Waller 
Burghardt, for that inclusive insight). Though I have been an ardent critic "I 
the "Jesuit Sedentary Rite," here was unleashed the power of that sacrificial 
memorial of the death-resurrection of the Lord Jesus that consumes me, 
animates me, drives me to passionate catechesis and praxis. Here I learned to 
pray the Prayer of the Church, the Liturgy of the Hours, at dawn and at 
dusk, "rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep," 
for there is no "I" without "we." 18 Here I have been permitted to be I, 
myself, in all my complexity, without censure or odious comparison. Here I 
have been encouraged mightily to bring to "Ours" and all those we serve the 
gift of blackness, for I have learned here that "the world is our house," and 
"there's plenty good room." Here, having learned "to think with the 
Church," I am grateful to work for Bishop Pilla and the Church in Cleve- 
land by doing worship wisely and well. Here, having been graced by the 
presence of so many Jesuits — models and exemplars of faith and holiness — I 
have also been graced by the lives of other black Jesuits with whom a word 
need not be spoken for complete understanding to be realized. Here, with 
Jesuits of every color and hue, I have been able to but whisper: "Take, Lord, 
receive. . . . Done made my vow to the Lord. . . . You can change ma name. " 
Here my sanctified soul has been able to shout: "I've been so busy praising my 
Jesus, I ain't got time to die. If I don't praise him, the rocks gonna' cry out. I 
ain 't got time to die. " 

Here, I have survived. Better yet, I thrive. May we all continue to 
do so to God's greater glory and the help of souls. Let the Church say . . . 



An Inner Journey 

by Hung T. Pham, S.J. 

-/\sians are often surprised when they learn that I am American. Most do 
not even believe that I live in the United States. However, this is not true 
for Vietnamese. People in Viet Nam quickly realize that I am not really 
Vietnamese, though I speak Vietnamese flawlessly and try to behave appro- 
priately. Even my family members, at times, find the way I think and 
behave very American. Who am I really? Am I Vietnamese or American? 



is 



See the General Instruction of the Liturgy of the Hours, nos. 1-18. 



36 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

And how has the struggle with ethnic identity affected my formation as a 
Jesuit? I believe these questions are part of a mysterious calling, a vocation 
that continues to unfold its meaning in my life journey. 

It is providential that after having lived fifteen years in Viet Nam 
and fifteen years in the United States, I have spent my thirty-first year living 
and working in neither place. This year with the Jesuit Refugee Service in 
northern Thailand has provided me a more reality-based perspective for 
reflecting on who I am and have become. I am honored that the editors of 
STUDIES have invited me to share my journey as a Vietnamese-American 
Jesuit. It is my hope that through this sharing of my inner journey the 
readers will grow in an understanding and appreciation of what we Vietnam- 
ese-Americans have undergone. 

I was born in 1969, the youngest of seven siblings, at the climax of 
the Viet Nam War. In 1975 the Communists from the North took over the 
South, ending the long war. My father, who had worked for the pro- Ameri- 
can government of South Viet Nam, escaped the country by himself and 
came to the United States. Ten years later, when I was sixteen, my family 
was reunited with my father in Denver, Colorado. All I knew and felt then 
was the pain of leaving my friends behind and not knowing when I would 
see them again. 

My family and I arrived in Denver in the midst of a winter snow- 
storm in 1985, an experience that was totally strange and foreign to me. And 
that was how it went during my early years of living in Denver. The first 
few years in high school were challenging because of the cultural barriers 
and language difficulties. Even more difficult, however, was the lack of 
anyone to talk to about my inner struggles to find my way in these new 
cultural conditions. 

God and tennis were my rescuers. During my years in Viet Nam, 
the Salesians in my parish taught me how to pray and to entrust everything 
to God's hand. So after school I found myself regularly in a Catholic church 
near my house, telling God what was going on inside of me and asking for 
help. I received no answer, but in the utter silence of the dimly lit church I 
was convinced that God heard and understood what I was going through, 
and I felt more at peace and consoled leaving the church. Also, thanks to the 
Salesians, I had learned how to use sports as a way to channel my frustra- 
tion. Every afternoon I found myself on a tennis court hitting the daylights 



Hung T Pham, S.J., is a first-year theologian at the Jesuit School of Theology at 
Berkeley; at the time he wrote this essay, he was associated with the Jesuit Refugee Service- 
Asia Pacific in Thailand. 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories •!• 37 

out of tennis balls against a big cement wall, thus enabling my mind to take 
a break from thinking about the issues preying on it. During the first 
summer in Denver, I hit that tennis ball so often and so hard that I made 
the school's varsity tennis team in the following fall season, and three years 
later, earned a tennis scholarship to attend college. 

With my tennis scholarship and a scholarship in mathematics, I was 
able to attend Regis University and to live in the dorms with other students 
who were mostly American. It was my first time away from the Vietnamese 
culture at home, fully immersed in the American way of life. I thought that 
this move away from home would solve my problem, or at least ease the 
tension within me. On the contrary, the decision to stay on campus threw 
me deeper into uncertainty about who I was. On the outside, I tried to act, 
to think, and to socialize as the other American students did. However, deep 
inside, I was afraid of losing my Vietnamese identity. I felt upset when 
people called me American. During the first few years at Regis, I felt like a 
walking contradiction in my way of thinking, feeling, and acting. 

As the tension heightened, I pleaded harder with God. This time, in 
addition to the stillness I kept encountering in the college chapel, God sent 
into my life a young Jesuit priest, Fr. Kevin Burke, who became the equiva- 
lent of my spiritual director. Kevin spent many long hours tirelessly listen- 
ing to what I had been going through. He gave me no answers, but simply 
sat there listening to my pain, assuring me that there was a meaning in this 
struggle of mine and that God was very much involved in all of it. Also 
through Kevin I began to learn about the Society of Jesus and its mission of 
educating students to become men and women for others. All the hard work 
of the first three years paid off. I blossomed during my senior year at Regis. 
I excelled in scientific studies and research, winning various national scholar- 
ships and recognition, including being selected by USA Today as one of the 
top twenty students in the United States. It was a dream come true. I was 
proud of being a Vietnamese who found success among other Americans. 
And I was in love. I had fallen in love with a woman whom I had grown up 
with in Viet Nam. She had recently immigrated to the United States. She 
knew who I was and seemed to identify with what I was going through. At 
the same time, I began falling in love with the Society and its mission. 
Increasingly there had been a tugging at my heart, something that kept 
nagging me to give back to the community all that I had received. In the 
spring of 1993, while I was in Washington, D.C., to receive the award from 
USA Today, my eyes were opened, and my heart was overwhelmed by the 
numerous gifts God had given to me. I decided to' apply to the Society and 
in the fall entered our novitiate in Denver. 



38 4* William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 

The novitiate marked the beginning of a trustful relationship 
between the Society of Jesus and me. The province had not had much 
experience with us Vietnamese. Yet I was impressed by the province's 
honesty in dealing with me. Both the novice director and the formation 
assistant admitted frankly that no one really knew what a Vietnamese- 
American Jesuit would be like, but we would figure it out as I moved along 
in my formation. These words of assurance took the pressure ofT, setting me 
free to discover who I would become. More important, the novitiate staff 
and my brother-novices assured me that I would not be alone in working it 
out. Somehow I felt that the novitiate was the right place for me. 

Contrary to what I expected, the novitiate forced me to take a 
closer look at the inner struggle of my identity, the issue that I had buried 
in the whirlwind of college. Though I felt much loved and supported during 
the novitiate, most often I was caught in an emotional roller coaster moving 
back and forth between the excitement of having lived in two cultures and 
the utter loneliness of feeling lost, belonging to neither. The Spiritual 
Exercises came at the right time, helping me to put things in better perspec- 
tive. During the long retreat, I again met the God who had loved and guided 
me through all the difficult steps of the journey. With God's grace I was able 
to take an honest look at "who I am" with my gifts and talents, pain and 
brokenness. In the midst of it all, God continued to call me to greater trust, 
reassuring me that there was still more awaiting me. 

During the First Week of the Exercises, I became a citizen of the 
United States. Frankly, the decision to become a citizen was more a matter 
of convenience for the purpose of traveling than the actual realization of 
what had taken place in who I had become. So, I became American on 
paper; yet, in my heart and mind, I was convinced that I was still very much 
Vietnamese. 

Toward the end of the novitiate, I thought I had it all figured out. I 
knew who I was — a Vietnamese who was learning and living in the Ameri- 
can Society of Jesus. So, for the long experiment, I asked to go back to Viet 
Nam to rediscover and strengthen my Vietnamese identity after having been 
away from that country for ten years. In Viet Nam, instead of rediscovering 
and strengthening my Vietnamese identity, for the first time I felt American. 
The simple and honest reality slowly set in, and I hesitantly began to accept 
it: I had changed. The ways I thought and behaved were no longer authenti- 
cally Vietnamese. In Viet Nam, I was reminded to conform obediently to 
tradition and authority, whereas in the United States I had been taught and 
grown accustomed to raise questions and to discuss everything. Though I 
tried as much as possible to be Vietnamese, something was lacking. And I 
was not the only one who recognized this. The Jesuits in Viet Nam shared 



How Multicultural Are We? Six Stories * 

their insights and reflections in assisting me through this rather challenging 
experience. They jokingly and lovingly nicknamed me the "American Boy." 
During my time in Viet Nam, instead of only strengthening my Vietnamese 
identity, I had come to accept and to cherish who I had become— a Vietnam- 
ese-American. 

While the novitiate was the time when I discovered and affirmed my 
identity as a Vietnamese-American, scholastic life so far has been a journey 
of integrating my Vietnamese-American identity into life in the Society of 
Jesus. As challenging and grace filled as the process of accepting my identity 
was, the process of living it out within the Jesuit life has been at least as 
challenging and grace filled. After the novitiate, I was sent to Bellarmine 
House of Studies in St. Louis for philosophy and theology studies. There 
again I found much love and support from my superiors and my fellow 
Jesuit scholastics. However, there remained in me a strange feeling of 
inferiority with regard to other Jesuits, especially those who are American- 
born. I constantly felt pressured to do well, to do better than other scholas- 
tics. I thought that by doing so I would be recognized and loved by my 
superiors. When my superiors approved my plans, I felt they were doing me 
a favor. When they disapproved, I felt that they didn't like me. I felt and 
acted as though I were a "second-class" citizen in the Society. 

Thanks to my spiritual director, Sr. Marian Cowan, C.S.J. , I was 
able to realize and overcome this dysfunctional feeling and perception. 
During one of our sessions, I mentioned to her how graceful I was to my 
superiors. There must have been something abnormal in the way I expressed 
my feeling of gratitude, because she asked me, "Do you express your grati- 
tude in the same way to your family members?" A relatively simple question 
it seemed, yet it helped me to get to the core of the problem. In fact, I 
neither behaved nor thought in the same way in my family. When family 
members helped me, I was grateful, but I didn't repeatedly and submissively 
say, "Thank you." AJso, in my family, I didn't think in terms of "I" .\nd 
"they" when talking about family matters and work. It was always "we" and 
"us." I am a Jesuit, and the Society of Jesus is now my family. Why should 
my attitude and the way I express my gratitude be different? With Marian's 
realistic perspective and encouragement, I have learned to be as honest with 
myself and with other Jesuits as I would be in my own family. Together 
with my new conviction, my way of thinking about the different works of 
the Society changed. Diverse though they are, they are part of the Society's 
one mission being carried out by different individual members, all for the 
"greater glory of God." 

With this new attitude, I was excited about moving on to regency. 
At St. Louis University High School (SLUH), I was part of a long .md 



40 * William A. Barry, S.J., and James F. Keenan, S.J., Editors 



X-XvXX 



prestigious Jesuit tradition in secondary education in St. Louis. At St. 
Thomas Aquinas Parish, I fortunately had the opportunity to live and to 
accompany other Vietnamese immigrants in celebrating the extraordinary 
gift of an ordinary parish daily life. With Jesuit Refugee Service, I was 
privileged to be a part of the Society's efforts of collaborating with other 
religious, laymen, and laywomen in responding to the needs of the Karenni 
refugees in northern Thailand. In all these apostolic works, I did not think 
of myself as a Vietnamese-American, but primarily as a Jesuit who has been 
sent to labor for the sake of the Kingdom. 

My Jesuit identity has been further strengthened and reinforced 
through the numerous reassuring acts of my Jesuit brothers. Here I would 
like to recall one of my fondest memories. During the Holy Thursday 
service a couple of years ago, while I was preparing the choir at St. Thomas 
Aquinas church, a friend of mine came and told me, "Your brother-Jesuits 
are here." I wondered who they were, perhaps other Vietnamese-American 
Jesuits in town. I couldn't believe my eyes when I looked at the congrega- 
tion. There, seated in one row all in formal black attire, were all of my 
American brother-Jesuits from the Jesuit community at SLUH. Those who 
have worked in a high-school apostolate know how precious the short Easter 
break is. After classes on Holy Thursday, all one would want to do is to rest 
and relax, then perhaps attend a quiet service at a familiar parish. No one 
would think of traveling to a different part of town, let alone of attending a 
long service done totally in a different language. Yet these men did, includ- 
ing the eighty-year-old Bro. Thornton, who usually preferred to attend Holy 
Week services at home. My eyes filled with tears. By being there these men 
not only claimed me as their brother, but also claimed my work in the 
parish as part of the community's and the Society's work. "How appropri- 
ate," I thought as we celebrated the Lord's Last Supper together truly as 
brothers. 

As I mature in the Society of Jesus, "who I am" ethnically is no 
longer an individual matter, since it has been incorporated and integrated 
into my identity as a Jesuit. Being a Jesuit, I have learned, means going 
beyond cultural differences and identities, beyond provincial and national 
territory. As a Jesuit, I am called to be available to be sent wherever there is 
a greater need. Also, I have learned, the process of becoming a Jesuit is a 
journey of constantly moving deeper into my desire, searching for that 
authentic voice that has called and led me into this path of life. And my life 
as a Vietnamese American reveals a unique history and concrete example of 
how one seeks to follow God's call in history. 

Written in the Karenni Refugee Camp, June 2001 



Past Issues: Studies in the Spirituality of Jesuits 

(For prices, see inside back cover.) 

1/1 Sheets, Profile of the Contemporary Jesuit (Sept. 1969) 

1/2 Ganss, Authentic Spiritual Exercises: History and Terminology (Nov. 1969) 

2/1 Burke, Institution and Person (Feb. 1970) 

2/2 Futrell, Ignatian Discernment (Apr. 1970) 

2/3 Lonergan, Response of the Jesuit as Priest and Apostle (Sept. 1970) 

3/1 Wright, Grace of Our Founder and the Grace of Our Vocation (Feb. 1971) 

3/2 O'Flaherty, Some Reflections on Jesuit Commitment (Apr. 1971) 

3/4 Toner, A Method for Communal Discernment of God's Will (Sept. 1971) 

3/5 Sheets, Toward a Theology of the Religious Life (Nov. 1971) 

4/2 Two Discussions: I. Spiritual Direction, II. Leadership and Authority (Mar. 1972) 

4/3 Orsy, So?ne Questions about the Purpose and Scope of the General Congregation (June 1972) 

4/4 Ganss, Wright, O'Malley, O'Donovan, Dulles, On Continuity and Change: A Symposium 
(Oct. 1972) 

5/1-2 O'Flaherty, Renewal: Call and Response (Jan. -Mar. 1973) 

5/3 Arrupe, McNaspy, The Place of Art in Jesuit Life (Apr. 1973) 

5/4 Haughey, The Pentecostal Thing and Jesuits (June 1973) 

5/5 Orsy, Toward a Theological Evaluation of Communal Discernment (Oct. 1973) 

6/3 Knight, Joy and Judgment in Religious Obedience (Apr. 1974) 

7/1 Wright, Ganss, Orsy, On Thinking with the Church Today (Jan. 1975) 

7/2 Ganss, Christian Life Communities from the Sodalities (Mar. 1975) 

7/3 Connolly, Contemporary Spiritual Direction: Scope and Principles (June 1975) 

7/5 Buckley, The Confirmation of a Promise; Padberg, Continuity and Change in General 

Congregation XXXII (Nov. 1975) 

8/1 O'Neill, Acatamiento: Ignatian Reverence (Jan. 1976) 

8/2-3 De la Costa, Sheridan, and others, On Becoming Poor: A Symposium on Evangelical Poverty 
(Mar.-May 1976) 

8/4 Faricy, Jesuit Community: Community of Prayer (Oct. 1976) 

9/1-2 Becker, Changes in U.S. Jesuit Membership, 1958-75; Others, Reactions and Explanations 
(Jan.-Mar. 1977) 

9/4 Connolly, Land, Jesuit Spiritualities and the Struggle for Social Justice (Sept. 1977). 

9/5 Gill, A Jesuit's Account of Conscience (Nov. 1977) 

10/1 Kammer, "Burn-Out"— Dilemma for the Jesuit Social Activist (Jan. 1978) 

10/4 Harvanek, Status of Obedience in the Society of Jesus; Others, Reactions to Connolly-L.ind 

(Sept. 1978) 

11/1 Clancy, Feeling Bad about Feeling Good (Jan. 1979) 

11/2 Maruca, Our Personal Witness as Power to Evangelize Culture (Mar. 1979) 

11/3 Klein, American Jesuits and the Liturgy (May 1979) 

ll/5 Conwell, The Kamikaze Factor: Choosing Jesuit Ministries (Nov. 1979) 

12/2 Henriot, Appleyard, Klein, Living Together in Mission: A Symposium on Small Apostolic 

Communities (Mar. 1980) 

12/3 Conwell, Living and Drying in the Society of Jesus (May 1980) 

12/4-5 Schineller, Newer Approaches to Christology and Their Use in the Spiritual Exercises (Sept.-N \ 
1980) 

13/1 Peter, Alcoholism in Jesuit Life (Jan. 1981) 

13/3 Ganss, Towards Understanding the Jesuit Brothers' Vocation (May 1981) 

13/4 Reites, St. Ignatius of Loyola and the Jews (Sept. 1981) 

14/1 O'Malley, The Jesuits, St. Ignatius, and the Counter Reformation (Jan. 1982) 



14/2 Dulles, St. Ignatius and Jesuit Theological Tradition (Mar. 1982) 

14/4 Gray, An Experience in Ignatian Government (Sept. 1982) 

14/5 Ivern, The Future of Faith and Justice: Review of Decree Four (Nov. 1982) 

15/1 O'Malley, The Fourth Vow in Its Ignatian Context (Jan. 1983) 

15/2 Sullivan and Faricy, On Making the Spiritual Exercises for Renewal of Jesuit Charisms (Mar. 

1983) 

15/3-4 Padberg, The Society True to Itself: A Brief History of the 32nd General Congregation of the 

Society of Jesus (May-Sept. 1983) 

15/5-16/1 Tetlow, Jesuits' Mission in Higher Education (Nov. 1983-Jan. 1984) 

16/2 O'Malley, To Travel to Any Part of the World: Jerommo Nodal and the Jesuit Vocation (Mar. 

1984) 

16/3 O'Hanlon, Integration of Christian Practices: A Western Christian Looks East (May 1984) 

16/4 Carlson, "A Faith Lived Out of Doors": Ongoing Formation (Sept. 1984) 

16/5 Kinerk, Eliciting Great Desires: Their Place in the Spirituality of the Society of Jesus (Nov. 1984) 

17/1 Spohn, St. Paul on Apostolic Celibacy and the Body of Christ (Jan. 1985) 

17/2 Daley, "In Ten Thousand Places": Christian Universality and the Jesuit Mission (Mar. 1985) 

17/3 Tetlow, Dialogue on the Sexual Maturing of Celibates (May 1985) 

17/4 Spohn, Coleman, Clarke, Henriot, Jesuits and Peacemaking (Sept. 1985) 

17/5 Kinerk, When Jesuits Pray: A Perspective on the Prayer of Apostolic Persons (Nov. 1985) 

18/1 Gelpi, The Converting Jesuit (Jan. 1986). 

18/2 Beirne, Compass and Catalyst: The Ministry of Administration. (Mar. 1986) 

18/3 McCormick, Bishops as Teachers and Jesuits as Listeners (May 1986) 

18/5 Tetlow, The Transformation of Jesuit Poverty (Nov. 1986). 

19/1 Staudenmaier, United States Technology and Adult Commitment (Jan. 1987) 

19/2 Appleyard, Languages We Use: Talking about Religious Experience (Mar. 1987) 

19/5 Endean, Who Do You Say Ignatius Is? Jesuit Fundamentalism and Beyond (Nov. 1987) 

20/1 Brackley, Downward Mobility: Social Implications of St. Ignatius's Two Standards (Jan. 1988) 

20/2 Padberg, How We Live Where We Live (Mar. 1988) 

20/3 Hayes, Padberg, Staudenmaier, Symbols, Devotions, and Jesuits (May 1988) 

20/4 McGovern, Jesuit Education and Jesuit Spirituality (Sept. 1988) 

20/5 Barry, Jesuit Formation Today: An Invitation to Dialogue and Involvement (Nov. 1988) 

21/1 Wilson, Where Do We Belong? United States Jesuits and Their Memberships Qan. 1989) 

21/2 Demoustier, Calvez, et al., The Disturbing Subject: The Option for the Poor (Mar. 1989) 

21/3 Soukup, Jesuit Response to the Communication Revolution (May 1989) 

22/1 Carroll, The Spiritual Exercises in Everyday Life (Jan. 1990) 

22/2 Bracken, Jesuit Spirituality from a Process Prospective (March 1990) 

22/3 Shepherd, Fire for a Weekend: An Experience of the Exercises (May 1990) 

22/4 O'Sullivan, Trust Your Feelings, but Use Your Head (Sept. 1990) 

22/5 Coleman, A Company of Critics: Jesuits and the Intellectual Life (Nov. 1990) 

23/1 Houdek, The Road Too Often Traveled (Jan. 1991) 

23/2 DiGiacomo, Ministering to the Young (March 1991) 

23/3 Begheyn and Bogart, A Bibliography on St. Ignatius's Spiritual Exercises (May 1991) 

23/4 Shelton, Reflections on the Mental Health of Jesuits (Sept. 1991) 

23/5 Toolan, "Nature Is a Heraclitean Fire" (Nov. 1991) 

24/1 Houdek, Jesuit Prayer and Jesuit Ministry: Context and Possibilities (Jan. 1992) 

24/2 Smolich, Testing the Water: Jesuits Accompanying the Poor (March 1992) 

24/3 Hassel, Jesus Christ Changing Yesterday, Today, and Forever (May 1992) 

24/4 Shelton, Toward Healthy Jesuit Community Living (Sept. 1992) 

24/5 Cook, Jesus' Parables and the Faith That Does Justice (Nov. 1992) 

25/2 Donahue, What Does the Lord Require? (March 1993)— ONCE AGAIN AVAILABLE 

25/3 Padberg, Ignatius, the Popes, and Realistic Reverence (May 1993) 



25/4 Stahel, Toward General Congregation 34 (Sept. 1993) 

25/5 Baldovin, Christian Liturgy: An Annotated Bibliography (Nov. 1993) 

26/1 Tetlow, The Most Postmodern Prayer (Jan. 1994) 

26/2 Murphy, The Many Ways of Justice (March 1994) 

26/3 Staudenmaier, To Fall in Love with the World (May 1994) 

26/4 Foley, Stepping into the River (Sept. 1994) 

26/5 Landy, Myths That Shape Us (Nov. 1994) 

27/1 Daley, "To Be More like Christ" (Jan. 1995) 

27/2 Schmidt, Portraits and Landscapes (March 1995) 

27/3 Stockhausen, I'd Love to, but I Don't Have the Time (May 1995) 

27/4 Anderson, Jesuits in Jail, Ignatius to the Present (Sept. 1995) 

27/5 Shelton, Friendship in Jesuit Life (Nov. 1995) 

28/1 Begheyn, Bibliography on the History of the Jesuits (Jan. 1996) 

28/2 Veale, Saint Ignatius Speaks about "Ignatian Prayer" (March 1996) 

28/3 Clooney, In Ten Thousand Places, in Every Blade of Grass (May 1996) 

28/4 Starkloff, "As Different As Night and Day" (Sept. 1996) 

28/5 Beckett, Listening to Our History (Nov. 1996) 

29/1 Hamm, Preaching Biblical Justice (Jan. 1997) 

29/2 Padberg, The Three Forgotten Founders (March 1997) 

29/3 Byrne, Jesuits and Parish Ministry (May 1997) 

29/4 Keenan, Are Informationes Ethical? (Sept. 1997) 

29/5 Ferlka, The Road to Bethlehem-Is It Level or Winding? (Nov. 1997) 

30/1 Shore, The Vita Christi of Ludolph of Saxony and Its Influence on the Spiritual Exercises of 

Ignatius of Loyola (Jan. 1998) 

30/2 Starkloff, "I'm No Theologian, but . . . (or So . . . )?" (March 1998) 

30/3 Torrens, The Word That Clamors (May 1998) 

30/4 Petrik, "Being Sent" (Sept. 1998) 

30/5 Jackson, "One and the Same Vocation" (Nov. 1998) 

31/1 Clifford, Scripture and the Exercises (Jan. 1999) 

31/2 Toohig, Physics Research, a Search for God (March 1999) 

31/3 Fagin, Fidelity in the Church— Then and Now (May 1999) 

31/4 Schineller, Pilgrim Journey of Ignatius (Sept. 1999) 

31/5 Fullam, Juana, SJ.: Status of Women in the Society (Nov. 1999) 

32/1 Langan, The Good of Obedience in a Culture of Autonomy (Jan. 2000) 

32/2 Blake, Listen with Your Eyes (March 2000) 

32/3 Shelton, When a Jesuit Counsels Others (May 2000) 

32/4 Barry, Past, Present, and Future (Sept. 2000) 

32/5 Starkloff, Pilgrimage Re-envisioned (Nov. 2000) 

33/1 Kolvenbach et al., Faith, Justice, and American Jesuit Higher Education (Jan. 2001) 

33/2 Keenan, Unexpected Consequences: Parsons's Christian Directory (March 2001) 

33/3 Arrupe, Trinitarian Inspiration of the Ignatian Char ism (May 2001) 

33/4 Veale, Saint Ignatius Asks, "Are You Sure You Know Who I Am?" (Sept. 2001) 

33/5 Barry and Keenan, How Multicultural Are We? (Nov. 2001) 



,^gg^%g%^^ 



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I; 



Marian Cowan, C.S. J., and 
John Carroll Futrell, S.J. 

Companions in Grace 

A Handbook for Directors of the Spiritual 
Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola 

A guide and companion for those who direct others in 
making the Spiritual Exercises. A new edition of a 1980 
classic, by two outstanding experts in the field. Each of 
the four Weeks of the Exercises is treated in detail, and 
the book includes sections on Ignatius' s rule for dis- 
cernment, directing an eight-day retreat, the 
nineteenth-annotation retreat, annotation eighteen, and 
more. 

Paper ISBN 1-880810-38-7 

pp. vii + 249: $18.95 



I 

1 

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<■:■. 

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1 



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Roberto de Nobili, S.J. 
(Trans. Anand Amaladass, S.J., and Francis X. Clooney, S.J.) 

Preaching Wisdom to the Wise 

Three Treatises by Roberto de Nobili, S.J. 

How should the Christian faith be communicated to a 
non-European culture? Roberto de Nobili was one of 
the earliest Jesuit missionaries to address this question. 
This book gives three of de Nobili' s treatises, classic 
early examples of a move toward what would now be 
called "inculturation," as well as an introduction by the 
translators that both critiques de Nobili' s approach and 
appreciates his greatness. 

Paper ISBN 1-880810-37-9 
pp. xxii + 345: $29.95 
Both books will be available in May 2000. 



MM 



NEW BOOK! 

The Road from 
La Storta 

Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, S.J., 
on Ignatian Spirituality 



"The vision of La Storta has not been given to us 
so that we might stop to gaze at it. No, it is the 
light in which the Jesuit regards the whole world." 

These words are from a homily on the anniver- 
sary of St. Ignatius's vision at La Storta. Father 
Peter-Hans Kolvenbach, superior general of the 
Society of Jesus, challenges Jesuits and their 
associates to consider their mission as they follow 
Ignatius along the road from La Storta into the 
wide world. In this collection of twenty essays, 
Father Kolvenbach proposes ways of understand- 
ing this mission from spiritual, analytical, and 
socio-pastoral perspectives. 



xv + 300 pages $28.95 

ISBN 1-880810-40-9 P'us postage 



csfxi J-£,5,UltLaCL 

Images and Emblems from the Early Jesuit 
Tradition to Use in Desktop Publishing or 

on the Web 



by 

Thomas Rochford, S.J., 
and J. J. Mueller, S.J. 



A collection of 239 royalty-free images already 
formatted for Windows and Macintosh 



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